Beauty and the Biryani
by EmpressIrony
Summary: When Kelsey Hayes got a job at her local Indian restaurant, she never dreamt that she would learn about far more than curry - and that the mysterious, sardonic owner would be the one to teach her. Mildly cracky restaurant AU Kelsey/Kadam.
1. Ch 1: When Their World Begins to Shine

The characters belong to Colleen Houck, and credit to the magnificent Ms. Antonella Inserra of for suggesting a "May-December romance" between these two in her very funny Tiger's Curse recaps.

This is an alternate universe, so apologies in advance for OOC traits and the many, many liberties I have taken with the source material; having said that – please bear in mind that it _is_ an alternate universe and is, therefore, an extremely crack-y and fluffy vision of what might have been. On that note: Come and dream with me.

Chapter 1: When Their World Begins to Shine

I hate being late. But unfortunately my three-thirty Economics lecture ran over. So, instead of devouring a baked potato smothered in cheese and butter and tuna mayonnaise (trust me, it's awesome) with my name on it, I had to run like hell back to my apartment get changed into clothes Sarah would have called "smart" and walk at a stupid pace into Leicester city centre. So when I arrived at my new job, I arrived late, dishevelled and hungry. _Way to make a first impression, Kelsey. _

The White Tiger is what I've discovered to be typical of medium budget Indian restaurants in my fifteen years living in England. Until I get inside. Instead of bead curtains and heavy ethnic upholstery everywhere, it's all modern and kinda swanky-looking with a black, impressive, back-lit bar and dark wood lifted by accents of colour. All of a sudden I wonder if I'm way out of my league. My only experience is selling sweaters to old ladies at weekends back home, I'll probably be fired for accidentally pouring curry over someone by the end of the week. A beautiful Indian woman in her early thirties walks over to me.

"Sorry, we're not open yet." She says with a polite smile. Huh. She sounds more local than I do.

"I know." I reply too quickly. "I mean, um, I'm supposed to be starting work here today. I spoke with the manager on the phone...?"

Her smile becomes brilliant and she eyes me with interest.

"That would be me. You must be Kelsey, I'm Priya. I actually manage front-of-house here, my uncle is the manager technically." She holds out a hand and I shake it. "He might be the owner, but we both know that I'm the one who's really in charge." We laugh and I know that we're going to get along just fine.

She shows me how to lay out the cutlery and fold the napkins before leaving me to my own devices to do the other tables, whilst she photocopies my passport in the office. So she can prove to immigration that I'm not a stowaway on a steamer from New York, I guess?

"Sorry about that," she says handing my documentation back to me. "The Border Agency likes to check our staff out from time to time, in case we're hiring illegal immigrants in the kitchen or something." Priya rolls her eyes. "Apparently we Indians like to look after our own."

"That happen a lot?"

"Once every three to six months, they do it to all the Indian and Chinese restaurants in the area – not just us. I guess it must be working, but the novelty wears off after a while..." She trails off, before piercing me with her beautiful amber eyes. "So, you have an American accent and a UK passport. What's the story there?"

Of course that question was coming. It always does when you're the foreigner in the room.

"My Mom was British and my Dad was American, but we lived in Oregon. They died in a car crash when I was five and I came here to live with my Mom's second cousin and her husband. That's it. End of story." Nothing to see here. I shrug and go to put my passport back in my bag. I don't mention the pain of being neither British nor American, or the confusing transatlantic mangle that I think in, or the shame I feel around "real" Americans at the University. No, I don't mention any of that. Over my out cold, dead drunk body.

When I return to Priya, it's as though the previous conversation never happened.

"So, Kelsey. We won't have you waiting tables tonight, instead just greet people at the door and take them to a table, if there's one available. Let one of the other waiters know who's waiting and go back to the desk. If it gets busy, we might have you take drinks orders – but let's not push it."

"So, how many other servers are there?"

"Four, but you won't see them all at the same time. Two of them ought to be arriving soon."

As if on cue, the door opened. But the man that came through the door sure as hell wasn't a waiter. He's Indian and tall, so tall I feel dwarfed by his mere presence in the room (or maybe I'm just too short)? His beard is white and his dark hair striped with silver, with one of those faces that seems only to improve with age. One of those faces that makes "handsome" seem like a second prize handed out to younger men to appease their fragile egos. He approaches Priya and gives her a warm hug, their greetings muttered in a language too complex for me to even guess at. The lines on his face seem to enhance his expression of gentle pleasure. After greeting Priya, he turns his black coffee gaze on me – pinning me to the floor with the fathomless depths of the question in his eyes.

Priya clears her throat and I feel my cheeks warm, realising that I'd been staring into the eyes of a man old enough to be my grandfather _way _too long.

"Uncle, this is Kelsey Hayes, our new waitress. Kelsey, meet my uncle and the restaurant's owner and manager, Anik Kadam."

I hold my hand out:

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Kadam."

Priya nods at me surreptitiously behind her uncle's back as he shakes my hand. I hope that means that I've passed some kind of test.

"Pleased to meet you too, Miss Hayes." The melodious Indian lilt to his voice and its growling bass notes enhance my internal squee at being addressed with a title for the first time outside of a doctor's or a bank. "So this is your first time working at an Indian restaurant?"

"Yes. Or a restaurant. But Priya's being gentle with me. And the public, she's not letting me loose on them too soon," I joke feebly. Kadam nods, but his smile takes on a concerned quality.

"Do you have any experience with Indian food, or culture?"

"Um... Not really... I know a little..." I shift, feeling very uncomfortable under his increasingly disbelieving stare. "Like Ghandi... And Shiva... And Kali and... Saris and... Arranged marriages... Bollywood.. Okay, it's not much - but I'm willing to learn!" I add quickly, in an attempt to salvage the situation.

Kadam's expression goes from sweet to sour quicker than chantilly cream left out of the fridge all night.

"I should sincerely hope you are, Kelsey." Huh. No more "Miss Hayes" for me.

Priya admonishes him gently in their native tongue. I suspect she's telling him that I'm not at fault for my own upbringing, to give me a chance. The bottom falls out of my stomach. I don't want to lose this job. I need the money. But more than that, I feel awful. I've spent the last twenty years of my life so wrapped up in my own Anglo-American angst that I forgot there was a whole world out there, beyond my own narrow frame of experience. It's as though I've been eating plain white supermarket bread like it's the best and only bread in the world, and all of a sudden someone's pointed to the fresh baguettes, pumpernickel and rye bread in the bakery across the street. I feel stupid and painfully aware of my ignorance. And hungry. Damn bread simile and damn missed dinner.

"E-excuse me?" I interrupt their whispered argument. They stop and stare at me. "I know it's not ideal, but please give me the chance to improve myself. I won't make excuses, I should have done some research before applying here. But I really want to learn and improve myself." Kadam's black coffee stare burns into me, as he tries to assess how genuine I am in my remorse. I hope hours of my life watching Hell's Kitchen eliminations haven't gone to waste.

"Okay, Kelsey." He says eventually. "You'll have you chance to _learn_." I smile and start to thank him, when he cuts me off: "But. _I _will be teaching you."

Fuck. That sarcastic little smirk does not mean good things. I knew I shouldn't have mentioned arranged marriages.

* * *

Welcome to the first slice of this little experimental cake of crazy, I hope you enjoyed/weren't scarred for life by it! Chapter title comes from "Like An Eagle", from the A.R. Rahman musical Bombay Dreams.


	2. Ch 2: You Have to Work Until You Drop

Okay guys, the present tense was fun but it's now making me feel like Anastasia Steele and a bit icky as a result. On the plus side, you'll get quicker updates this way! Although if people prefer the present tense I will go with democracy.

Chapter 2: You Have to Work Until You Drop

True to his word, Kadam took me under his pinstriped wing. Any moment that we weren't serving customers, he was with me at the desk with a menu helping me memorise the appetisers and sides – what they were, how they're made, and who can eat them. After he mentioned vegans for the fifth time, I told him that my foster parents were vegans.

"Really?" He asked with interest. "Are they any good at it?"

"No!" I said with a smile as I remembered graveyards of cookies rendered tasteless by substitute... Everything. (Who even knew substitute nut butter was a thing?!) I became a good baker young.

"That bad, huh?" Kadam said wryly.

I explained about my life of substitutes and bland horror, until Sarah told me I was old enough to cook for myself – if I wanted to. I like cooking, and I like cooking with butter and meat. Kadam rolled his eyes and gave me a small, pitying smile:

"The problem with a lot of vegans in the West is that instead of focusing on all the things they can eat, they focus on that which they cannot. They spend all their time with fake things, trying to recreate what they had and not on all the possibilities in front of them. Why waste your life in pursuit of a counterfeit?"

"I've never really thought of it that way." I admitted.

"See! You've learnt something new already!"

"I am saturated with enlightenment today..." I stare at the open menu, hoping my hunger-fuelled sarcasm hasn't got me fired.

"Okay, Young American – let's see how enlightened you really are today." With a smile of pure evil, Kadam took away my goddamn menu and grilled me like a piece of barbecue rib. Mm... Rib... I didn't realise that I had started fantasising about the rib until Kadam frowned and kept repeating the words "basmati pilau" with increased urgency.

"Sorry, didn't get a chance to eat before." I muttered, using the time it took for Kadam to raise his spectacularly expressive eyebrows into the People's Eyebrow to search for the answer. "Rice." I said eventually. "Aromatic rice with a variety of spices. Slightly floral and lemony." He talked about basmati before going off on a tangent about flower sellers from the slums selling jasmin garlands outside the Hotel Taj Mahal in Mumbai. Flowers, floral – easy. He nodded, apparently satisfied.

We carried on this way all night. By the end of the shift, he was practically purring with delight at my progress – taking personal credit. Or pride. I was too hungry to differentiate. By the time I was cleaning tables at the end of the shift, my fantasies of a baked potato and/or ribs had been replaced with tandoori chicken and basmati rice. No. Not tandoori. Methi chicken, that fenugreek sauce smelled delicious. Tandoori another day. I internally scowled at Kadam, for making me crave food I wouldn't get. One of the other servers bade me good night and shook me from my daydreams of murder with a shock. I couldn't even remember her name, or the guy who'd left before her. I had been so focused on the thrice-cursed menu and not drowning in Kadam's black coffee eyes, that I hadn't really registered their names. Damn, I'm such an asshole at times, that was just plain embarrassing. I'd have to wait until someone said their names. Rona and Rajesh? Anjali and Akash? Stupid disciplinarian, silver fox manager.

_Silver Fox?! _I thought with a shock. _Is that what I think of him? _I looked over at the open kitchen door and caught a glimpse of him de-briefing the chefs. He was pretty easy on the eyes. And weirdly charismatic. But not a fox. A fox is sneaky and kinda narrow-headed. He was a tiger. A silver tiger running The White Tiger. All grace, power, beauty and don't-fuck-with-me. Doesn't mean that I like _liked _him. I can appreciate someone handsome without wanting to bang them. Especially when they're my boss and older than I care to think about. This had to be hunger-induced insanity talking.

My incredibly distracting train of thought was interrupted by a tupperware box being pushed into my line of vision by a tanned, lined hand.

"A reward for the Young American," Kadam explained in a melodious undertone a little nearer to my ear than was strictly necessary. "Get home safely, Priya and I will finish up here," he stepped back.

"Thank you!" I said with a smile that was as sincere as chilli is red. Kadam stared at me a second as I picked up the box. "Oh, just one thing before I go – what's with the "Young American" stuff?"

He smiled enigmatically.

"That is my reference to chuckle to myself about, and yours to discover."

The methi chicken and rice I had for dinner was delicious. That Kadam had specially made up a box for me made me feel really guilty about planning his murder, Wile. E. Coyote-style. I felt less guilty when he rang me at three in the morning.

"Wha-? K'lsey speakin'." I mumbled into the phone.

"It's Kadam. Tell me, what meat shouldn't I serve to a Hindu?"

"What? It's three in the morning!"

"I did not ask for the time, I asked for the taboo meat for Hindus!"

"Beef, cows are sacred... Goddess, milk-churning at the beginning of the world. Gods 'n' demons... I'm going back to sleep, you do that too – you goddamn insomniac silver tiger!" With that I hung up on him, and let fantasies of Acme anvils and pianos falling from the skies onto my manager's silver-streaked head lull me into slumberland. That will teach him to respect my sleep.

I though I would die of embarrassment, when Anik Kadam burst out laughing the next time he saw me and walked past me saying something horribly like:

"A silver tiger, eh?"

I really wanted one of those suicide booths from Futurama at that moment. Badly.

* * *

Colleen Houck owns Kelsey, Kadam and The Tiger's Curse, I own only fantasies of Indian food. A MASSIVE thank you to Antonella Inserra of for mentioning this loving slice of crack on her hilarious recaps. She made a longtime Team NChick fan's heart squeal in delight. Thank you to all you lovely people who reviewed/favourited/vaguely liked this, you guys rock and I think that you're 50 Shades of Awesome.

Now that I've finished moving house, I'm going to try and get a chapter up once a week, maybe twice if I'm feeling ambitious. Keep an eye out on Wednesdays and Fridays especially. Oh and the chapter title's from A. R. Rahman's Bombay Dreams again, more specifically the song "Are You Sure That You Want To Be Famous?"


	3. Ch 3: Some Yesterdays Always Remain

Chapter 3: Some Yesterdays Always Remain

Friday rolled round again and I had been working at The White Tiger for a week, and I still hadn't been let loose on the customers. But unlike my first week, my three-thirty Economics lecture _did not _run over (for the first time in forever) and I had time to do my hair and hurry down some Thai fish cakes (twenty minutes in the oven, courtesy of Morrison's) and French beans before leaving for work.

When I reached the restaurant, I was surprised to see that my two co-workers had got there before me. In the week since my first shift I had learnt two things about them: Their names were Rani and Gaurav, and they were never, _ever _early. They always seemed to arrive on time, just by the skin of their teeth. (My personal theory was that they were in a couple in a secret romantic, forbidden relationship, because they were promised to other people, - until Priya told me that Rani was a single mother who had problems finding childcare and Gaurav had Architecture classes that ran late at the other college in town, De Montfort University). Both of them had this worried, strained look on their faces and were having an urgent conference with Priya over the front desk. They fell silent, when I came in.

"Hi guys!" I said, as if I hadn't noticed anything wrong, and breezed past them into the office to dump my stuff and change into the black court-heels I wore for work. I hesitated longer at the door than was strictly necessary.

"Please don't be so superstitious guys, we've made it this far." Priya pleaded in a hurried undertone. "Have a little faith in us and we'll make it through together."

"It happens every time, Priya. _Every _time." Gaurav snapped, his worry overcoming his sense.

"Don't you see, Gaurav?" Demanded Priya. "Believing in the thing thing will make it so."

"But Maya and Karen -" He began counter.

"Maya and Karen believed, and now they're gone. It came to pass because they chose for it to be so." The manager countered with no small level of contempt.

"But still," I heard Rani's quieter voice reason. "A thing which comes to pass, still comes to pass – no matter how it does."

I heard Priya sigh. When she spoke again she sounded both much calmer and much kinder:

"I know it's hard for you. Both of you. But keep faith with us and we'll keep faith with you."

Silence. I counted to thirty before breezing out as though the tension in the room wasn't smothering.

"Everyone okay?" I asked casually, flipping open a menu as if I was doing some last minute revision.

"Yeah, fine," Rani eventually said with a smile so forced you would think I had a gun to her head.

"Your _silver tiger _will be here in a minute," Priya grinned at me. I winced and hid my blushing face in my hands. Apparently, my 3 AM slip was so amusing and/or gratifying that Kadam had been proudly sharing his new moniker with everyone.

"I'm never going to be allowed to forget that, am I?" I asked as I watched Gaurav and Rani go into the office to stow their things.

"Not as long as I have breath in my body."

"Oh. Good to know. Would you like me to arrange that for you sooner, or later?"

She laughed and told me to get to work.

I was folding napkins at one of the tables before service, when I called Priya over – as if to check my work.

"This is perfect, what do you need me for?" She asked.

"Priya," I murmured to her. "What happens "every time?""

Her perfect golden cinnamon skin seemed to blanch a moment. Within moments she had regained her composure.

"So, you heard?"

"Every word." I confirmed.

She sighed. It was the despondent, frustrated sigh of a soufflé collapsing.

"Tell me, Kelsey." Priya said with a pinch of her nose. "How long have you lived in Leicester?"

"Nearly three years, but I still see my family on the south coast during the holidays and summer vacation." Now seemed as good a time as any to tell her I couldn't work Christmas.

"So, you know nothing of the curse of The White Tiger?"

"No." I raised my eyebrows. "Did you build it on an ancient Indian burial ground?" Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I realised how dumb using "Indian" was in this place, to this person was.

"Not exactly." Luckily she didn't seem to notice. Or care. "The White Tiger is something of a Leicester institution, it's been here since the first major wave of Indian migrants in the 1940's. When the original owner died ten years ago, he left it to both of his sons; two years later the business imploded over some nonsense with a girl between them. It was then sold to a couple called Patel, - two years later they were bitterly divorced and the restaurant was sold again. Then it was a trendy Indian tapas place owned by some young, bright thing. Two years later, he sold up for all the money he could. After him, it was a restaurant again. Until someone found things which would give Gordon Ramsey nightmares in the freezer. So it was sold again. To my uncle. Two years ago."

"And Rani and Gaurav are worried for their jobs?" I supplied.

"Exactly. Especially now that Maya and Karen have given in their notice. Apparently they said that anyone with any sense would get out while they still could."

"This is some serious Scooby-Doo stuff going on here!"

"Well, if a someone dressed as the White Tiger Man turns up I'll start looking for hidden gold mines in the basement!"

Our laughter was interrupted by a melodious voice from the door:

"There is only one tiger here, and he is silver!" You could hear the grin in Kadam's voice as he walked over to us. "Maybe I should change the name of the restaurant to The Silver Tiger? That would stop all this Polish chit-chat about a curse, for sure."

Oh, for a hole to crawl into and die in. Or a hole which, in fact, turned out to be a tandoori oven. Because a long, slow, burning death among skewered meat was preferable to my embarrassment at that moment. Stupid hot boss. Wait, _wha-?!_

Before I could pursue that thought any further, Kadam had clapped me on the shoulder.

"Brave heart, Kelsey. You shan't be rid of me so easily yet."

"Damn." I said with a smile. He returned it. Freely. I couldn't help but notice that he waited just that second too long to let go of my shoulder. Priya looked at us with this strange smile affixed to her face. As if something had been confirmed and she approved. A lot.

"So, Young American." Kadam cleared his throat. "Tonight we shall initiate you into the mysteries of the bar..."

That shift was a night of revelations. True to his word, Kadam showed me how the bar worked – getting Priya to man the front desk. It went pretty well. Even if I refused to believe that salty lime juice was a thing. Lime and sugar syrup, yeah I could get behind that – but who the hell willingly drinks saltwater?! He rolled his eyes and told me just to make the damn thing like he told me to. As soon as the thing was made, instead of testing it – like I thought he would – he disappeared into the kitchen. I waited. And waited. I did some drinks orders. I told Rani that I could give her the number of one of my friends, if she was having trouble finding childcare. She told me she'd probably take me up on the offer, once service had ended. And I waited some more.

Eventually, Kadam emerged from the kitchen cradling something in his hand.

"Open wide," he ordered.

Unthinkingly I did so and he popped something into my mouth. Tangy, sour and spicy pickled lime chutney mingled on my tongue with the crispy texture of a piece of poppadom. It was very good. And very hot. My tongue was burning.

"Drink this," he ordered me again, pushing the salty lime juice towards me.

It was less salty than I thought it would be. The balance of salt, lime and water seemed to blend harmoniously with the spices on my tongue, whilst wiping away the heat.

"Refreshing, isn't it?"He said with a smile that knew he had been proven right. "Although you shouldn't drink too many of those in one go."

"Yeah, osmosis – we covered it in High School." I may not know about salty lime juice and the entire geopolitical history of India, but there are some things I do know and Science definitely falls under those!

Kadam raised his eyebrows sardonically:

"But they didn't tell you not to open your mouth when just anyone told you to. Who knows what someone might pop in the there one day?"

A horrible, awful, and extremely awkward moment passed as we both realised what had just potentially been said. God knows what the customers thought as a tall, older Indian man and younger brunette white girl with a face the colour of a beet stood stupefied and staring at each other in shock behind the bar.

"I'm going to go and mingle," Kadam said suddenly.

"You do that." I agreed. He disappeared very quickly.

Later that night, a large group of younger and older Indian men came in and sat down. They were no noisier than any normal table of that size. They were conversing loudly in one of the Indian languages (I knew there were different ones by this point, but I had no clue how to differentiate). I did their drink order and Gaurav took it over. It was only when Kadam went over to ask them how they were enjoying things, if they were being served etc. that all broke loose.

All of a sudden, they were very excited and smiling – grinning like idiots, in fact – and their voices had shifted a semi-tone up in their joy. I could distinguish the words "Anik Kadam" being said a lot, but that was it. The man himself looked gracious and poised, with an air of a sort of calm and measured pleasure about him. Soon he was signing any scraps of paper the men could get their hands on and taking selfies with some of them. He walked away, waving and smiling, to the next table – apologising for the commotion when he got there. What. The actual. Hell.

I motioned at Priya and gestured towards the table of men in the middle of a collective fangasm.

"Explain. Please."

Priya took one look at my face and nearly laughed aloud.

"My uncle may or may not be one of the biggest Bollywood stars of the last forty years. Perhaps ever."

"Huh?!"

"Yep. Imagine if Humphrey Bogart came over to ask you how your meal was."

"Oh my..."

"He's semi-retired now that he's moved here and has the restaurant to keep him busy, but he still takes the odd role if it looks interesting," she continued proudly. "He stopped making as many films after my mother died and he had to come and look after me, but he has always been in the public eye."

"Your mother..?" I asked momentarily distracted from my boss' apparent superstar status by my friend's grief.

"When I was fourteen." Priya swallowed. "Heart attack. Uncle Anik dropped everything to come and look after me. So he's like a father to me Kelsey – more of a father than the scumbag who left without a word when I was born."

She looked away, clearly distressed. I reached a hand over the bar and rubbed her arm in a what I hoped was a comforting manner. The worst possible thing that I could say now was that I was sorry.

"It's okay," Priya said after a while. "I have Uncle, I have Akash, I have friends. I am blessed." The mantra seemed a well-rehearsed truth.

"Who's Akash?" I asked pleasantly.

"He's my husband!" She waved her wedding ring in front of me. "He's the head chef! It's how we met."

"Wow, I really need to get out back more often."

"Don't worry, it will be fine once you start serving food. You should come round to ours some time, you can watch one of Uncle's films!"

"It's a date!" I agreed enthusiastically.

"Hey, you two – enough with the Polish chit-chat and get back to work," Kadam said to us as he went past.

Before I left that night, Kadam pressed a lunchbox filled with a lentil daal and rice into my hands. He muttered something about doing a good job at the bar, but I wondered if it was his way of apologising and a silent plea not to sue him for sexual harassment.

"Mr Kadam," I said as he began to walk away. He faced me. "You're not "just anyone." I trust you."

He seemed to consider this a moment as something soft seemed to pass over his face.

"Thank you, Kelsey. Good night."

I had reached the door by the time he called after me.

"Kelsey?"

"Yes?"

He paused. He seemed to struggle with what he was going to say, before deciding upon:

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow. Kadam."

The service the day after was fine. Little did I know that Monday's was going to be hell incarnate.

* * *

Buh, duh, nuh, nuh. NUUUUUUH! As always, Colleen Houck owns the characters and I own the Indian restaurant sandbox that I happen to be playing in. A big thank you to everyone that's got in touch - you are lovely, lovely ego-soothing individuals. I will get round to showing Kelsaey's life outside of The White Tiger eventually, but until then next chapter: The service from hell, a.k.a. Murphy's Law.


	4. Ch 4: I'll Think My Wishes Through

There is **a lot **more swearing in this chapter than usual, but I'm following BBC rules and it is appropriate to the situation.

Chapter 4: I'll Think My Wishes Through Before I Wish Again

Monday's service started out just fine. Peachy. Hunky-dory. Well, Priya looked a bit pale and tired, but she _assured_ me it was just a headache. And that, my friends, was the last time I ever took Priya's assessment of her own health at face value. But more of that later. Kadam had decided that I was finally ready to be set loose on customers, and it was going pretty well; I hadn't mixed up any orders, or spilled anything onto anyone's head. I even had time to quickly introduce myself to the cheeky and dashing Akash, Priya's husband, who waggled an eyebrow and expressed his pleasure at meeting the "tiger tamer," before yelling out the order. One day I'll live that down. (Who am I kidding?)

It began with Rani looking nervous and acting very jumpy. I just assumed that was because it was the two year anniversary of this particular incarnation of the The White Tiger being open – the "curse" 'n' all that. Priya had warned me that we would have an unusual number of people in there, rubberneckers waiting to witness any car crash that might happen. I asked Rani if she had got in touch with my friend Jess about babysitting. She stared at me intensely with pursed lips, as though searching for a question that I hadn't asked, before quickly replying that she had and scurrying off to ask a table on the other side of the room if they were enjoying their meal.

About a quarter of the way through service, I realised that I hadn't seen Priya for a while. I told Gaurav that I was going to try and find her; he waved me off dismissively as he checked his phone under the bar. I knocked on the office door, but there was no-one in there but Kadam.

"Have you seen Priya?" I asked him, getting increasingly worried. "She hasn't been in the dining room for about twenty minutes."

"No." He frowned and concern descended over his face. "Maybe she is in the kitchen? It doesn't seem like her to distract Akash during service, but..."

I practically marched into the kitchen, getting even more worried when I saw that she wasn't there. I demanded of her husband if she'd been sent out for supplies or anything.

"Nope, we're good for everything," he said quickly – keeping an eye on the kitchen. "Tried the office, yet?"

"She's not there. I'll let you know when I find her," I rattled off before tearing out of the room. There was one last place that I hadn't tried.

I tapped on the door of the ladies' bathroom:

"Priya? Are you in there?" I pressed my ear to the "Staff Only" sign and listened. I was rewarded

with a weak "yeah" through the wood. "Can I come in?" I asked.

"Yeah." Came again. "It's not locked."

I opened the door to the sight of Priya knelt next to the toilet bowl, looking ghastly. She was pale, with a thin sheen of sweat coating her face and strands of soaked, dark hair sticking to her forehead.

"Priya!" I knelt down next to her and out a hand on her forehead. She was freezing. "What's wrong? Did you eat something bad, or..?" I let the question trail as her fever-bright, but somehow glazed, eyes locked with mine.

"No. Just felt shit before. Then had to get out of there. The smell. The smell of the onions near the kitchens..." She moaned and clutched the toilet bowl. I held her hair back from her face as she vomited. It looked like she was just throwing up water now; the rest of her stomach contents must have already said hello to the sewer. _Not good, _I thought as I rubbed circles into her back.

"I'll be right back honey," I told her as I scrabbled to my feet.

I entered the office without knocking and picked up my coat. The weather had recently turned, so I had my sheepskin-lined duffel coat with me.

"Well?" Kadam asked.

"She's puking her guts out in the bathroom," I said bluntly. "She's freezing. Please get a pint glass and fill it with water. And bring it." I left the stupefied Kadam in my wake.

I persuaded Priya to put my coat on, and she huddled into it almost immediately. I was grateful that it had always been a little too big on me and fit the taller woman perfectly. I twisted her hair in to a shiny black rope and tucked it down the back of her collar. Kadam appeared behind me, as if by magic. I ceded my spot on the floor to him and watched them from the door. He stroked her hair and cradled her head on his shoulder. All of a sudden I had a vision of a younger Kadam, his silver-streaked hair only the merest suggestion of salt and pepper, holding a teenage Priya – young, vulnerable and sick with grief. An invisible bubble seemed to envelop them, cutting me off. I left them to it. Someone had to tell Akash what was going on.

And I would have done just that. Had I not noticed that neither Gaurav nor Rani were in the dining room when I got back. Shit. Their pads were on the bar and I couldn't see their coats. Double shit.

Suppressing the rising tsunami of internal panic, I grabbed the pads and made a circuit of the room – running up one of Gaurav's bills, taking one of Rani's orders. With as much poise as I could muster, I walked briskly to the bathroom.

"We've got a problem," I told Kadam. "I need you out in the dining room."

"Can't it wait," he replied impatiently. "You can see she's unwell."

"Rani and Gaurav are gone."

"What?!" Furious did not cover his expression.

"They're not here, and neither are their coats. We have an almost full dining room!" I let some of the blind, cold terror that was pulsing through me show. "Kadam. I need you. Please."

He looked at his sick niece, conflicted. Some resolve hardened in his eyes. He whispered some unknown, melodious reassurance into Priya's ear and she nodded, taking a sip of her water.

"Let's go." He pushed past me.

For about twenty minutes we split the load between us. It was hard, but manageable. It seemed as though things were slowing down for the night, when a large party in. I looked round to find Kadam, to silently ask which of us would be handling them. He was nowhere to be found. The bastard. The absolute and total bastard.

I took the order up to the pass, and asked Akash if Kadam had been here. He told me, no he hadn't seen him for a few minutes. Rage doesn't cover what I felt at that moment. All of a sudden two tables were up at once, and I only had one pair of arms. Akash offered to lend me someone, but even a newbie like me could tell that every one of his team was needed precisely where they were. I shook my head and looked around desperately.

Sometimes in life, whatever can possibly go wrong will do exactly that. It's Murphy's Law, or Sod's Law as I've heard the English call it. But sometimes, in those moments, life will grant you a little grace in the form of the luck of the devil, - or divine inspiration. Sometimes there's not much difference. Either way, I realised that there were _two _tea trollies in the kitchen for dirty dishes. Frantically, I dumped all the dishes in the sink and screamed for a towel. When I got it I soaked it in water and wiped the trolley down. Realising what I was doing, Akash handed me a dry cloth to soak up the moisture that remained. I loaded the food in time to avoid both tables' food being ruined. Thank God for those little pewter pots we put the food in.

I wheeled the food around the dining room, straight-backed and smiling – as if my red-cheeks and increasingly dishevelled hair were merely the result of over-enthusiasm and absolutely nothing to do with my mounting blood-pressure. Even with the trolley, I was hard pressed to get it all done. I was running back and forth, with drinks, with orders, with food, with bills and those little aniseed candies. I have honestly never been so glad to see the back of the last smiling, well-fed customer. If I never heard another joke about the "The White Tiger's curse," I would die a very happy woman.

As I closed the door, I heard a cheer go up from the kitchen and a round of applause. A final shot of adrenaline mixed with relief released itself into my system. I stumbled over to the pass and joined in , punching the air:

"We did it guys! We did it!"

"_You _did it, you crazy woman!" Laughed Akash. "Take a bow, I've never seen anything like it! Whatever Anik's paying you, it's not enough!"

"Damn straight," I grumbled as the applause petered out. "Akash, go and check on your wife. I'm sure your team's got clean-up handled."

I kicked off my shoes and looked despondently at the dining room. I still had my own clean-up to do. My feet were throbbing out their own little rhythm of pain and swelling, and my back could sing a funeral dirge. In short, I felt like a sadly abused piece of schnitzel that had been hammered into a rather pitiful pulp. I cleared up the remaining detritus of the evening and was making a start on clearing up the table cloths and wiping tables when Priya emerged with her husband, looking very frail indeed.

"How are you doing?" I asked her, feeling guilty that I hadn't made time to check on her more often.

"A bloody plus," she muttered. "Thanks for earlier, Kels."

"Don't worry about it. Just go and get better, y'hear! I don't want you within a mile of here until you're better." I smiled.

"Oh, she won't. I'm wrapping her in a quilt cocoon on the sofa and keeping her there," Akash joked with a raised eyebrow that spoke of experience with Priya's stubborn nature.

I saw them to their car. Priya climbed in, still wearing my coat – luckily I remembered to retrieve my keys from the pocket. Belatedly, I hoped that she hadn't infected any customers.

"Thank you, Kelsey." Akash murmured.

"You're okay. I didn't do much, circumstances being..." I let my voice trail off. I was too tired to voice the full chain of expletives in my mind.

"Kelsey! Akash!" A familiar voice called from the distance. I stiffened as Anik Kadam approached from across the street. I was prepared to skin him alive, there and then, and wear his silver tiger pelt to the opera.

"Excuse me. I need to go and suppress some murderous impulses. Goodnight. Get well soon Priya." I said tersely. I turned and walked back towards the restaurant.

"Oh man!" I heard Akash crow at his Uncle-in-law. "You are _so _in trouble!" Damn fucking straight he was.

I was wiping tables when he dared to show his sorry ass in front of me. Just standing there, hands spread, all contrite.

"Kelsey, I -"

"Don't." I interrupted. "Not now. If you're sorry, help me clear up."

We worked in silence. Mentally, I was playing "Sympathy for the Devil" to keep me sane/going. The guys from the kitchen left, saying their goodbyes to me and muttering something to Kadam; it sounded suspiciously like a reproach. And I was just fine with that. I always did think the kitchen team were upstanding citizens. When the dining room looked something like normal, I went into the office and sat down in his chair. If there was a comfy chair to be had, I believe I was entitled to it that night. Kadam followed sheepishly behind me. I gestured for him to sit down at Priya's end of the desk.

"Make it good." I leaned back into the chair and folded my arms. He swallowed nervously. Good.

"I had to go and try to reason with them." He said urgently. "I thought "there must be some reasonable explanation" - an emergency. If it wasn't so, I thought I could bribe or bully them into serving their notice at least."

"Did you?" I asked, my jaw clenching.

"I couldn't find them at their houses. Just the babysitter at Rani's." He sounded bitter. "She hadn't been told of any emergency. You always tell the babysitter if anything will make you late," he reasoned to the air.

"I know her. I'll ask her tomorrow if anything happened after you left."

"You do?" That seemed to wind him.

"Yeah. Her name is Jess, she has a lovely smile and a Border Collie at home."

I sat there expecting more of the explanation, but it never came.

"I'm sorry I just ran out on you like that, but it was winding down for the night and I knew you would be okay. I had to act quickly, you see that?" He smiled boyishly up at me through his eyelashes. This guy. This fucking guy.

"No, I don't actually." I said hotly. "You left me without a word, without _help _in the middle of service! And, FYI, it got a helluva lot busier after you left!"

"Why didn't you call me?" He had the balls to sound annoyed.

"Like I had time!" I retorted. "Someone had to run everything, and it sure as hell wasn't you!"

I wasn't even sorry that he looked hurt. I continued, all the tired, scared, hurt and stressed feelings of the evening bleeding into my voice.:

"I don't have a lot of experience, but _you_ left _your_ restaurant in my hands – if something had gone wrong I would have been seriously screwed! You threw me under the bus, no. No, you abandoned me in the middle of the jungle with a white tiger! A captain should always go down with his ship, Anik, and you swam off on your one-man mission that could have waited till morning. I nearly drowned." I added quietly. "_You _nearly let me drown." I looked away from him, unable to stand his intense, black coffee eyes.

I registered movement in the corner of my eyes and all of a sudden Kadam was kneeling at my feet. Warm, slightly leathery hands embraced mine. I watched mutely as his tanned thumbs made soothing circles into my pale skin.

"I am sorry Kelsey. Truly, I am. Sometimes I forget that I must not think only with my heart. And my heart was wounded, maybe my pride too, to be so easily betrayed by two people I trusted; they've both worked for me since our first service. I ran off like some melodramatic hero into the night, hoping that if I believed hard enough I would not have to lose them. I can't explain it" He frowned and the grip on my hands tightened. "It's curious. Goodbyes become harder the older you get, but to get no goodbye at all is an even worse tragedy. Even if they spat in my face, I had to know _why._"

I rubbed his hands and he looked up, hope shining from depths of his eyes.

"I understand." I said. "I don't forgive you, not yet anyway. But I do understand. With time and some serious grovelling, forgiveness should come," I added with a small wan smile that I hope conveyed that he would probably be off the hook soon.

Another tendril from the tens which had already fallen out of my braid tumbled over my eye. Slowly, Kadam reached over and brushed it over my cheek and drew it over my ear, his fingers leaving a trail of tingling sensation as they trailed over my flesh and down my jawline. If only his expression had been readable at that moment! Instead of strangely stiff and his eyes seeming even darker than usual. He withdrew his hand. He smiled at me and stood up.

"Tea, then I'll drive you home?" He asked. How British. But tea did sound perfect.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks."

He left me in the office with a lot of questions. I undid my braid with the intention of redoing it. I suddenly didn't care. The green hair-ribbon seemed more like a noose at that moment. I let my hair tumble in waves just past my shoulders and closed my eyes.

I didn't even know that I'd fallen asleep until I was half-awake, being carried through the night in Anik Kadam's sandalwood-scented arms. I was dimly aware of being shifted and being out into the front seat of a car. He muttered something to himself and closed the door. I opened my eyes and was aware that I was a lot warmer than I had any right to be. I looked down and saw Kadam's long, grey woollen coat. With a smile, I buckled up underneath it and snuggled under it into the leather seat. In a minute he would be back in the car with whatever he forgot at the restaurant and ask me where I lived. Until then I could luxuriate a little. Besides. I trusted him to not kidnap me.

* * *

N'aww... These crazy kids. Thanks (once again) to everyone who has been in touch with words of encouragement, I'm glad that what I'm doing is (at the very least) entertaining someone! As to suggestions of "doing an E.L. James..." It's _very _tempting, but we'll see... Anyway, Houck owns what she owns - and I own the rest.


	5. Ch 5: Don't Release Me

Chapter 5: Don't Release Me

I resisted the temptation to lay my aching body down the minute I walked in through my door, forcing myself to shower and change into my PJ's, and remove my make-up, (have you ever tried un-glueing mascara-laden eyelashes after sleeping? No? Don't, it's grim). Without my little power-nap, I'm not entirely sure I would have had the strength. _Well, _I consoled myself as I put an old BBC Radio 4 documentary on on my laptop, _any service after that one will be a slice of key lime pie. _I drifted off into a deep sleep with key lime pie cravings jostling with 75 years of Dennis the Menace in my mind.

I don't remember precisely what I dreamt that night. A lot of anxiety. A lot of checking a watch that wasn't there. A lot realising that my phone was dead. A little relief. A little Earl Grey. A little comfort in a slice of key lime pie. A little sandalwood-scented warmth. Not enough. Never enough. I awoke feeling as though my heart was in my mouth, and yet I felt as serene as a lotus flower floating on a moonlit pool. I made breakfast in a daze, clinging to the echoes of that sensation as they faded horribly fast. It was... Intense, to say the least. By the time I got to class I was mourning its loss. Hazel eyes bobbed into my line of vision and interrupted my oddly self-indulgent stream-of-consciousness.

"Kelsey, hi!"

I wasn't lying when I told Kadam that Jessica Hardy had a beautiful smile. Even if it was blinding at ten to nine in the morning.

"Jess! What's up?"

She sat down next to me with a delicate thud and, unusually for her, skipped the small talk:

"What was up with all _that_ last night? Was that your boss?"

"You tell me your story and I'll tell you mine."

"Well, it was a normal night, right? Rani left me with Benny, who's a little sweetie – by the way – and went off to work. So far so good, right? Then it's what? Half-nine? And your boss is banging on the door! He's all polite and worried, but obviously kinda pissed off. He tells me that Rani's gone AWOL with someone else and do I know anything about that! Of course I didn't, and he buggered off leaving me terrified that the kid had been abandoned with me." She paused to brush her short, brown hair over her ear, to let her statement sink in. "Rani came back the time we arranged and I asked her what had happened. She just kinda frowned and said that she had a better offer. She said that it was sorry that it ended that way, but the other job was a kinda "now or never" deal. She paid me an extra tenner, so I'm wondering if her "new job"..." She trailed off and frowned, as if wary of the potential dangers of speculation.

Quickly, and much to Jess' delight, I told her _exactly _how my evening had gone. She gasped and grimaced in all the right places, much to my satisfaction.

"Hang on," she whispered as the tutor finally showed up, "he _carried _you back to his car?"

"Yeah..." I hadn't mentioned the hand-holding, or the face stroking. It felt like a betrayal, somehow.

"Are you having an affair?" She asked straight out.

"What? No!" I hissed. "He's my boss!"

"But _carried you back to his car. _That's goddamn adorable! If you aren't going for it, do that thing!"

Thankfully for me and my frazzled nerves, the seminar started up. I could fill my head with figures and spreadsheets and ignore the phantom feeling of warm arms cradling my body. Less difficult to ignore were Jess' pointed smiles and winks that triggered an avalanche of blushes.

I got two messages at lunch. The first was from Kadam, telling me that the restaurant would be closed until Thursday – to give him time to sort out the staffing issue. I didn't know if I was more disappointed or relieved. I wasn't anything but alarmed to recognise both of those emotions. The second message was from Priya, reminding me that she still had my coat and that I could come round and collect it any time I wanted. Frenzied texting ensued and it was fixed that I would come and visit after class.

Well, at least that was the plan. I knocked on Priya and Akash's door on Lytton Road and the latter answered it. He smiled brilliantly and shook his long, inky fringe out of his eyes.

"Yo, tiger-tamer. Come in." He stepped aside to let me pass.

"You still here?" I heard a voice with a tremor come from the living room. "Piss off and leave me with my DVD, Kelsey will be here soon." Akash rolled his eyes.

"She's here, you daft bat! And I'm pissing off!" He called back. He turned to me. "Madam in there has decided that she's well enough to go mad with me fussing over her, so I've been banished to The Old Horse to get out of her hair."

"Poor you. All pub and no work makes Akash a very unhappy man, I'm sure." If sarcasm and irony were classes, I'd be acing them. He stuck his tongue out at me in return.

"Anyway, go in and say hi. She's about to put a film on, and I dare say that you're invited. There's food in the fridge that you're welcome to if Madam forgets to offer." He waved goodbye and left the house.

I went into the living room and was greeted by a quilt burrito on the sofa that had Priya's head sticking out of it. A massive, empty bowl sat precariously on one sofa arm.

"Hey Kels."

"Are you sure you have enough blankets?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

"This is all the rage in Paris right now, soon everyone will be wearing these." She tried to gesture unsuccessfully, her movement inhibited by her wool and cotton casing. "So, Kelsey. You have two choices, the way I see it."

"Oh?" She was clearly feeling better.

"Option one: You pick up the coat in the hall and walk out of here, leaving a poor, sick woman whose husband has annoyed her to distraction on her own..."

"Uhuh." Yep. Definitely better.

"_Or _you join me in watching this very fine Bollywood movie and walk away in a couple of hours both educated and entertained." She batted her eyelashes hopefully.

I sighed. I had tomorrow afternoon off. I could catch up on work then. It's not like I had anywhere else to be... Sod it. I'll embrace a social life, for once.

"Sure. Why not? What kind of pupil of the school of Anik Kadam would I be if I refused this opportunity?"

A mischievous glint entered her eyes and she stabbed "play" on the remote. I sat in an armchair and wondered precisely what the hell I had got myself into and, more to the point, what she had planned for me.

I kinda drifted off during the opening titles. Lots of grand, old Hollywood-style singing as hundreds of names faded in and out in front of a backdrop luxurious cloth and family photos. I switched back on long enough to register that the film was called Khabi Khushi Khabie Gham, ("Sometimes Happiness Sometimes Sadness", if the subtitles were to be believed).

I started paying attention and started enjoying it. A whole lot. It was a family drama with songs, and comedy, and romance, and tragedy, and... _Anik Kadam?! _

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" I exclaimed involuntarily.

Priya chuckled:

"Nope. Now shut up and watch the movie – he's an important character!" She grinned indulgently at me.

And indeed he was an important character. The incredibly cheeky and handsome main character falls in love with a beautiful Lizzie Bennet type from the wrong side of town, and eventually they get it together – but his adoptive father (Anik!) wants him to marry the lovely, sweet daughter of a friend of the family, and is kinda pissed off at being kept out of the loop in his son's love life and doesn't want him to marry a working class girl who was serving at one of his functions and rudely supplied him the lyrics to a song when he forgot them... Anik was basically the antagonist throughout the whole thing. The misguided older man who allows his pride to split his family apart. But he was completely understandable and sympathetic throughout and... I couldn't take my eyes off him. With his onscreen wife, with his onscreen sons, he just seemed to be commanding you to watch him.

Kadam's charisma was underlined and framed with fireworks in a song and dance sequence where Kadam's (onscreen) wife fantasizes about her family being together again during Diwali (but we don't know that until the gut-wrenching reveal). The two sons are leading the men's side of the boys vs girls that's going on and then the double doors swing open and... Kadam is there, walking in like he owns the air with his arms spread wide and his voice rising majestically. And then he showed them how it was done. For an older guy, Kadam sure can move...

Every single time he lead the male troupe with his two sons it was a masterclass in upstaging the young guns. Yeah, sure his movements might not be as energetic as the one nor as precise as the other, but boy did he make you watch him. His dark coffee eyes compelling you...

And I noticed that Akash was back. And sitting next to Priya with her head on his lap. And eyeing me with a mixture of glee and intrigue.

"Have a good time at the pub?" I asked weakly, very acutely aware that I had no idea how long he'd been back.

"I did." He was still smirking. "Enjoying the film by any chance, Miss Tiger-Tamer?"

"I'm a sucker for a good love story." I focused my attention back on the screen.

"So's he," I heard Akash mutter.

By the time of the grand reconciliation I was feeling wrung out. Every emotion conceivable had been squeezed out of me along with a few interesting questions that I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to. Feeling a very good kind of tired, I said goodbye and stumbled off home. I was half-way back when I received a text from Akash telling me that I'd forgotten my coat. And that if I wanted it back it was my turn to pick a movie.

I turned up more than ready for a movie night. I had worked my ass off that afternoon and had changed my mind about which film I'd bring multiple times: Pride & Prejudice? Akash might not like that. Stardust? I didn't want them to see me as a kid. The Lives of Others? Too angsty. I knocked on the door with my DVD of choice in my bag, feeling confident that I had chosen wisely. Akash ushered me in as he had the previous day.

Priya was in a more modestly-sized blanket burrito this time around and looking a bit stronger.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her.

"Better than I was, but food is still a horrible, horrible thought." She shook her head and looked at me expectantly. "So. What have you got for me?"

I handed her the case and tentatively awaited a verdict.

"Powell and Pressburger?" She said. "Like The Red Shoes?"

"Yeah, but no tragedy this time! I love this film, it is the perfect romantic comedy from before romantic comedies were a thing and it's kinda perfect..." I trailed off, aware of my imminent rambler status.

"Sure," she said. "Shove it on."

As I knelt in front of the DVD player, I heard the door go.

"I wonder who that could be?" I heard Akash exclaim extremely unconvincingly as he went to answer the knocking.

I listened as the door opened. And I heard a voice that sent shivers of pure energy down my back. I pivoted on my knees to face the man that had just walked in. He looked just as surprised as I felt.

"Hello," I swallowed.

"Hello Kelsey," Kadam returned.

His burning eyes locked me to the floor.

* * *

The people wanted more Akash, and so they got more Akash! (He seems to be turning into the breakout character). Bit of a Kadam-lite chapter this, but the next couple of chapters shall more than make up for it. If you've sent me a review, followed, favourited or otherwise read this fic and been mildly entertained, thank you for your time and support.

This chapter's title was from A.R. Rahman's Bombay Dreams, as were the previous two (anyone sensing a theme here, yet?) I'm probably going to run out of relevant quotes soon... And, by the by, Khabi Khushi Khabie Gham is a real movie and one that I highly recommend, starring a certain Amitabh Bacchan as a certain stubborn patriarch... Next time: Movie Night Part 2


	6. Ch 6: All My Dreams Were Spoken For

Chapter 6: All My Dreams Were Spoken For...

Kadam stood there, just in front of me. Never breaking eye-contact with me as I knelt in front of him on the carpet. With the same unreadable look in his eyes as he'd had in the office after the Incident, he stepped forward and offered me a hand. Without hesitation I took it. He pulled me gracefully to my feet and I became acutely aware that I was standing within the magic circle of his personal space.  
"Hello Kelsey," he said quietly. Huskily.  
"You've already said that," I pointed out with a quiet giggle.  
"So I have." He smiled. Stars sparkled out from the depths of his eyes. God, that smile was breath-taking.

Akash cleared his throat loudly from the door. Kadam and I stepped back from each other at the same time. Priya and her husband were looking at us with undisguised glee. I really hoped that was a good thing.  
"So. I found more staff." Kadam said eventually. "We'll be open tomorrow. You up for that, Priya?" Thursday was one of my nights off, anyway.  
"I hope so. I should be okay by tomorrow afternoon. Know what else I'm up for?" His niece asked with a raised eyebrow. "Watching this goddamn movie! Sit down and lets get this show on the road."

Quick as a flash, Akash slid onto the small sofa next to his wife and looked at me and Kadam in a way which can only be described as amused defiance. There was only one other chair in the room.  
"Please," Kadam said to me gesturing to the lonely armchair.  
"Oh no," I said. "You have it."  
"No, no, I insist. Young Americans before old silver tigers."

I scowled.  
"You're not that old."  
"You think so?" If he had truly been a tiger, his ears would have pricked up.  
"Sit on someone's lap, squeeze in together, I don't care – let's just watch this bloody film!" Akash interrupted the moment abruptly.

Defiantly, I sat down at the foot of the armchair and leant my back against it. Without missing a beat, Kadam slid down beside me; his arm and thigh were warm pressed against mine. Satisfied, Akash pressed "play."

Reedy 1940's style vocals sang the eponymous folk song as the words "I Know Where I'm Going" came up against the black and white background of Scottish coastal scenes.  
"Powell and Pressburger?" Kadam whispered to me. "Like _A Matter of Life and Death_?"  
"The very same," I whispered back with a small grin. I love that film.  
"Kelsey?" He whispered again."What is this film about?"  
"It's about a woman who wants to get to an island, and then she doesn't want to go any more."  
"Why doesn't she want to go any more?" He asked.  
"Let's find out." We shared a small conspiratorial smile as the film proper began.

It's very easy to lose myself in the world of Joan Webster and Torquil MacNeil, Paramount didn't used to use its script as a perfect example of a film for nothing. I keep throwing glances over to Kadam to see how he was reacting at key moments; suddenly, it's very important to me that he likes this movie. If he doesn't, I'm not sure I want to explore the feelings that are starting to grow tentatively within me. I wasn't disappointed.

He smiled indulgently at our heroine's single-minded desire to marry her industrialist fiancé's bank account and title at the beginning of the film. He grew more amused as she found herself stuck on the Isle of Mull with a motley group of friendly, local eccentrics, cut off by a fog from Kiloran – where she's meant to marry. Torquil MacNeil, Lord of Kiloran Castle and the industrialist's landlord and on leave from the Navy, was clearly a man after Kadam's own heart, - no-nonsense, cheeky, charming, chivalrous and kind. After that, I stopped looking at the man next to me and focused on the characters on screen. I only broke my rule to look at him again five minutes before the end of the movie: Bless him. He looked like his heart was going to break when Torquil asked Joan to do him a favour and have the pipers play "The Nut-Brown Maid" at some point during her wedding reception. I'm too busy stilling my own beating heart to see how he reacts as she asks to be kissed and he obliges. I know that they'll be together forever in two minutes, but when they walk away from each other without a word it still kills me.

The happy ending takes place and Kadam turns to look at me with a look of pure, beaming happiness on his face. You would think it was him who'd got the girl. "I take it you liked it?" I asked, amused.  
"Give me a happy ending and I'm a happy man." He looked down at me with a twinkle in his eye.  
"We liked the film too, in case anyone's interested," Akash interjected with a raised eyebrow. Priya was tucked against his shoulder, regarding her uncle with glittering interest.

The next night I sat in my room with nothing to do. It was kinda strange after so much activity in my life of late. I had skyped Sarah and Mike to let them know that I was alive, had dinner, checked my favourite websites for updates and watched a couple of videos. I was considering painting my nails all different colours, when my phone went.  
"Hello?" I asked without looking at caller id.  
"Kelsey, it's Anik" said a relieved voice. "How soon can you be down here?"  
"Twenty, twenty-five minutes – why?" I hoped that there hadn't been another walkout.  
"It's Priya. She's down in the line of duty again. But it's far worse than it was last time. I need another experienced hand on deck, - I can't just rely on the new guys, it's not fair."  
"Is she okay?" I asked urgently as I got up to find my work clothes.  
"I don't know." I heard a crack break through his voice. "I've sent her and Akash to the hospital, Vik can manage for one service. We should know in a few hours."  
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Anik?"  
"Yes?"

"You can't do her any good by worrying. By now she should be with a doctor. Worry when you've been given something to worry about," I said repeating one of Mike's favourite maxims.  
"Thank you. I will." I heard his breathing even out a little.  
"Right, I'm going to hang up now." I informed him. "It's kinda difficult to get changed with a phone pressed to my ear. See you soon."  
"Bye." He hung up before I could. I guessed that he really did have problems with goodbyes.

I arrived at the restaurant and made a beeline for the office. I had my shoes changed, my purse dumped and was out on the restaurant floor before you could say "baked potato." I joined Kadam at the bar as I was searching my pockets fruitlessly for a hair ribbon.  
"So, where do you want me?" I asked him. And quickly realised that could be misinterpreted. And maybe I wanted him too. Not now, Kelsey! Head in the game! Thankfully, he didn't pick up on the potential innuendo.  
"Waiting tables, keeping an eye on the new guys mainly. I need someone here if -" The words caught in his throat and he looked away. As if voicing his worries about his niece would make it so.  
"Hey!" I clicked in front of his face. "Step away from the visions of doom. That's an order."  
"Is it, indeed?" Luckily for me, he seemed more amused than annoyed. Friend or not, he could still fire me.  
"Yes! Now call the new guys over here and introduce me. I don't want them thinking that I'm a customer that's just decided that serving's the way they want to go."

He obliged me and caught the attention of the two men wandering solicitously around the dining room. The younger of which looked about sixteen, sweet and incredibly nervous, he assured us that he had some experience working in restaurants – but not much. He said his name was Mohandas, but to call him Mo; apparently being named after Ghandi is a lot of pressure for a teenager with fluffy hair. The older was Anglo-Chinese and could have been anything from a bad forty to an okay sixty. He introduced himself as Alan, and remarked casually that winter was coming. I told him that the North remembers and we high-fived – much to Kadam's confusion. We were going to get along just swimmingly.  
"_Game of Thrones_," Mo muttered to his new boss with sympathy.

Ultimately, Mo and Alan needed very little help. Mo just needed confidence and perhaps a little Joker gas to fix a smile on his shy face. Alan had charm and customer service skills, but he needed to improve his ungodly chicken-scratch handwriting. Apparently he was such a foodie that the menu was no problem. Frankly the biggest problem I faced that night was my hair. I had nothing to tie it back with. At all. And goddamn it, that's more annoying than a splitting sauce when you have long, naturally curly hair and have actual activity to participate in. In frustration I tucked it down the back of my shirt collar. It felt like my neck was a radiator that I'd blocked off with a carpet of hair; why was just keeping my hair off my face so difficult?

Kadam emerged from the office after checking his phone for what seemed like nth time and pulled me over to just inside the door.  
"What is it?" I asked. "Has something happened with Priya?"  
"No, not yet." He said. "But you hair..." He frowned.  
"What about it?" He'd seriously wanted to talk to me about my hair?!  
"It's annoying me. It doesn't look right tucked in like that."  
"Really?!" This guy. This fucking guy.  
"It looks... Strange."  
"There's not much I can do about that, I'm afraid." I fumed. "See, I had to come in at the last minute and I forgot to bring a ribbon or something. Not much either of us can do about that, Slick – unless you're hiding a twenty-four hour drugstore in here."  
"Sh, sh, sh..." He was lucky that he sounded more reassuring than patronising. "I meant it as no personal slight, my Young American."  
"I suppose I could use a rubber band if there's one round here," I said half-heartedly gesturing around the office. Getting it off my hair at the end of the night was going to hurt like hell, but I could take it – for a night's pay. Not for Kadam. Not for Kadam at all.

He frowned. He stared at me a second.  
"Do you still trust me?" He asked me with an armour-piercing look.  
"Do you need to ask?" I countered. I didn't fall asleep in just anyone's office.

Instead of replying he moved his hands up to his throat and slowly undid his tie. Still looking directly into my eyes he slid it off and gently slid his hand under my hair and onto my neck. He was a little cold. He pushed outwards and pushed my hair free of my collar, sending it tumbling down over my shoulders. He took his navy skinny tie in hand and laid it on the top of my head, before reaching round tie it behind my hair; my face was practically buried in his chest. (I prayed that my peony lipstick wasn't leaving any stains). He made a few adjustments, both to my hair and to the tie, and stepped back to admire his work.

"There," he said with great satisfaction. "That's better. A beautiful hairstyle for beautiful hair."

I could have hated myself for blushing, but I didn't. "Do you think so?" Oh a quip, my kingdom for a quip.  
"Yes. I do - it's the colour of burnt sugar. It reminds me of dark caramel, when it catches the light in the light," he said with a smile approaching shy.

Silence. Eventually, I cleared my throat.

"I'd, uh better, um, get out there," I said awkwardly, gesturing wildly towards the dining room.  
"Yes, of course." He nodded.  
"Thanks. For the hair." I rushed out to the dining room. Oh, for a sandalwood-scented suicide booth!

A lot of people complimented me on my hair. Apparently, they really loved "the scarf." Leaving them a bit nonplussed when I blushed madly, thanked them and got on with their order. I just felt crap; Priya was in hospital and there I was, flirting with her uncle! Eventually service came to an end. Alan and Mo left. So did the kitchen team, Pretty soon it was just me and Kadam in an empty restaurant with our growing worries for Priya's health.  
"Go home." He told me. "I'll call you when I know anything."  
"No. I'm waiting here with you."  
"That could be hours."  
"And? It's not like either of us is going to be getting any shut-eye tonight."

He nodded and sat down at a table. I joined him. It was going to be a long night.  
"Thank you." He said quietly. I hoped my answering smile was more reassuring than creepy.

Ten minutes passed by and I was wondering if the purse I'd brought with me had a book in it. Then I tried remembering which book that would be, if it was indeed there. It was either _Bridget Jones' Diary: The Edge of Reason_, (so much better than the film) or... Something else. Maybe _Hallowe'en_ by Agatha Christie. I just needed to _do_ something, and wondering if one of the few friends I had was going to be okay just wasn't cutting it. Kadam may be all for brooding into the distance, but my thoughts weren't the happy, rational things I ordinarily didn't mind being left alone with.  
"So." I broke into Kadam's vigil. "I saw one of your films the other night.

He blushed. He honest-to-God blushed. Just a little, but it was there. My inner-fangirl was squeeing.  
"Which one?" He looked as though he honestly dreaded the answer.  
"_Khabi Khushi Khabie Gham,_" I said, praying I got the title right. "It was..." I let the stupid smile speak for itself. "I really enjoyed it."  
"I'm glad. I really liked shooting that one." Within minutes the man had me in stitches with stories from on set. I had a glimpse into a side of Kadam's life that was cut off from me before; I didn't know if I wanted to be part of that life, but I did know that once he started talking about his passions he simply sparkled. "Anyway, enough about that," he said after a while. "Tell me _your_ story. How are you here, Young American?"  
"Did Priya tell you anything?" I asked, my good mood waning a little.  
"A little. But not much," he admitted. "That you were an orphan and you came to live here when you were young."  
"Five." I said automatically. "I was five years old when Mike and Sarah adopted me."  
"That young?" His eyes shone with sympathy. I could have hated him for it.  
"Yeah. My parents died in a car crash." This is the part where people express their sympathies and change the subject. But he didn't.  
"Were you in the car?" He asked me. Just like that.  
"Yeah." I swallowed. "Concussion, some minor scarring, and a broken arm that hurts like hell when it's too cold." I put on a Marlon Brando impression: "I coulda been a left-hander, Charlie. I coulda been somebody."

Kadam didn't laugh. It unnerved me. I swallowed again.  
"Although, it's funny." I continued. "My injuries and potential trauma worked out in my favour with the authorities; because Sarah's related to my Mom, it was judged that I ought to be in the bosom of my family. Even if they weren't in the same country."  
"What about your grandparents? Either set?"  
"Let's not." I said abruptly. Not now. That would push my mood so far into the red it it would take years to break even. "Anywhere I'm here now. Final year of my degree, and then onto an uncertain and glorious future. Do you have any family aside from Priya?"  
"No. It had just been me and my sister for a while when her husband moved here. He left, she stayed and died. And here we are."  
"Did you never start a family of your own?" I felt terrible for wanting him to answer in the negative.  
"No. Just myself and Priya. Besides, being "Anik Kadam – star of the silver screen" freed me to do as I please. I didn't have to marry out of obligation, or a desire to seem respectable, and living in England meant that I was under less scrutiny than some of my peers."  
"Commitment-phobe, huh?" I poked with a wry smile.  
"Oh, far from it my Young American." He went all enigmatic with a mere half-smirk.  
"Explain." I commanded, tapping my fingers on the table.  
"Movies absolutely ruined me. I played so many heroes that risked it all for love, that got the girl or died trying, that I wanted nothing less. I wanted to commit too much, my Young American. I believed in true love, just like in the movies. For the right woman, I would still take a thousand lashes."

His fingers were playing perilously close to mine. His phone rang. It sounded kinda like soul, but not quite. Kadam went into the office to answer. I tried to listen out for the tone of voice, anything to give me a clue. Anik, he sounded... Happy. Eventually, he emerged.  
"Well?" I prompted. "She's pregnant!" He was bursting with happiness.  
"That's fantastic! Congratulations!" I stood up to join him.  
"They're going to be okay! They've found that she has the same illness as Kate Middleton, so they've given her dehydration medication and nutritional supplements, but she'll be fine." His eyes glittered with unshed tears of joy and relief.

He suddenly looked so lost standing there alone, like he didn't know where to turn. I didn't hesitate. I put my arms around his waist and held him close, my head resting on his shoulder. After a beat, his hands snaked cautiously around me.  
"It's a new chapter." I told him. "Enjoy it."  
"I am." He assured me. "She's safe, she's happy, but Asha isn't here. My little sister will never greet her first grandchild – it's not right."My heart broke a little.  
"Then you will have to love him or her enough for both of you – won't you?" I traced soothing circles on his back.  
"Yes." He murmured. He stroked my hair. "I will," he vowed quietly.

I could have stayed there forever. But, instead I settled for five seconds too long. I told him that he must want to see Akash and Priya now and went to get my things. I congratulated him again and we bid good night. I left and walked alone with the stars, and the realisation that I could no longer ignore. I had fallen for Anik Kadam. Badly.

* * *

... And the penny drops. Phew! Longest chapter yet! Thank you once again to the lovely people enjoying, favouriting, reviewing and generally appreciating this work whilst giving me prompts on comment threads for other ones. Elizabeth Smith is, of course correct, when she points out in her review of the last chapter that romantic comedies were a thing pre-1940's; I know this (my spirit-animal is probably a 1930's screwball sassy heroine), but Kelsey doesn't yet. Kelsey, bless her, appears to have some areas of very specialist knowledge (food, accounting and Powell and Pressburger films) but also has some pretty bloody huge gaps in her knowledge (American pre-WWII cinema and the entire geopolitical history of India). She's a very special snowflake, as Sursum Ursa might say.

Titles's (once again) from _Bombay Dreams, _which I highly recommend people get hold of the soundtrack for/see a production of, if it's in their area. You should also watch _I Know Where I'm Going! _if you can - the pacing and dialogue are absolutely perfect. Houck owns the characters, I own the rest - next time: Diwali!


	7. Ch 7: Then You Came Along

Chapter 7: …Then You Came Along and I Dreamed One More

The knowledge that I was halfway in love with my own boss brought me immense peace. For all of three seconds. Then the panic attack hit in full force. I shut the door on my bedroom and slid down it onto the floor, allowing the feel of the wood and the carpet to ground me. My heart beat at a thousand miles an hour as worries and questions coursed through me like blood, the first of which was: What the hell, Kelsey J Hayes?! _He's your boss! And you don't even know how old he is! _50's, 60's – _70's?! _God, I hoped not. This was wrong on _so _many levels. I put my hands on my face and realised with a jolt that I could still smell him on me, just. It was so calming, and so right...

I didn't want to be some stupid girl who chanted "love and damn the consequences" like a mantra against "the Man" and "society", blind to the potential ramifications. Anik seemed wonderful, but "the devil hath the power to assume pleasing forms." I had only met him a few weeks ago, after all. I shook my head, I had to pull it together. I had to stop trying to find fault with Anik because I was afraid to face my own feelings! I would go into work, I would act normally, I would play it by ear and I would avoid any one-on-one alone time after hours – no more touchy-feely, heart-to-hearts! I would go in, eyes wide open.

I got up to brush my teeth and looked in the mirror. His tie was still threaded through my hair. He was right, it did look good – kinda 60's. I watched a flush creep through my cheeks as I remembered how close he'd been, how every movement had been slow, sensual... The fucker was such a flirt. God, I hoped that was deliberate... I saw my own eyes darken to a near onyx. I shook my head again. Get in the shower, Kelsey. But before I did, I sent Kadam a text – asking him when he wanted his tie back and apologising for stealing it by accident. When I got out the shower, I had one message waiting for me from "Insomniac Silver Tiger": "Keep it. It looks better on you. AK."

That night I dreamt about my parents for the first night in years. And the accident. But I couldn't see their faces, they'd become all blurry. I woke up with pain shooting down my arm and tears rolling down my face.

I was nearly late for work the next day. I couldn't decide between the tie and the ribbon; I braided my hair and I didn't see myself as I was. I saw a scared little girl getting cut out of the back seat of a car by fire-fighters. I pulled the ribbon out of my hair with trembling fingers. It was time to acknowledge that I'd had the same hairstyle for sixteen years for some very unhealthy reasons; a braid couldn't bring them back. If Priya and Anik could move on with a fresh start, so could I.

Anik's eyes glittered with interest as he noted where his tie was. He didn't comment in front of the rest of the staff, but I could tell some smartass comment was resting on the lips of his smug smile. _Not _the time to be thinking of his lips, Kelsey!

Service passed largely without incident. Akash was back with a vengeance and was practically purring with joy, - not that it stopped him laying into Alan over his illegible scrawl on the tickets. ("You call this writing? My unborn child can probably write clearer than that!"), or teasing Mo over... Well, pretty much everything. ("Put a smile on that baby face, Baby Face! If you're good I'll give you some sweeties!") By the end of service, Alan and Mo had been passed Akash's test and were henceforth to be referred to as "Chicken-Scratch" and "Baby Face" at the pass.

"Yo, tiger-tamer!" Akash called and beckoned me over.

"Hey, Akash. Congratulations!" I said giving him a friendly hug.

"Listen, can you make sure your guys don't leave? Priya's swinging by to make the announcement and I don't want those two to miss out."

I did as I was asked, but I privately wondered when (in two days) Mo and Alan had become "my boys." Everyone, kitchen staff and front-of-house both, was gathered in the dining room when Anik began circulating industriously and pressing a cold bottle of Cobra larger in any empty hand he could find. "My boys" looked very confused, but not undelighted by the free booze. The door opened and Priya came in looking tired and happy, and a great cheer went up from everyone. Startled, but smiling, she joined her uncle and husband in front of the bar. Kadam pressed a mango Rubicon into her hand.

"Well, I wonder why you're all here?" She asked the crowd knowingly. She turned to murmur something to Akash, he shook his head and gestured for her to take the floor. "As most of you know, yesterday we found out that I'm two months pregnant." Her next words were drowned out by whooping, even from Alan who'd only briefly met her. "As a lot of you also know, he or she hasn't even been born yet and they're already raising hell for Mummy!"

"Sounds like his father!" Vik yelled. Akash gave him a middle-finger salute with a sweet smile.

"Akash, Uncle Anik and myself have agreed that with my health the way it is, and my incredibly unhelpful inability to smell cooking onions without retching, it is better that I take early maternity leave." A knowing titter went up from the team. My heart was in my mouth; somehow, I knew what she was about to say. Akash reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm not sure if I'll wish to return here, or if I'll be able to, but I want you to know that if I don't I love you all..." She started choking on her suddenly high-pitched words, and tears started rolling down her face. "And I'll m-miss you _so_ much. No matter what I do in the future, I'll _never_ have a team like you again!"

Akash took her sobbing form into his arms, whispering soothingly and planting soft kisses on her hair.

"We love you too, bae!" Vik again.

"To our first white tiger cub!" Kadam raised his bottle. The rest of the restaurant joined in with applause and cheering.

I went over to the happy couple. Priya had calmed down some and greeted me with a hug.

"You're not coming back. Are you?" I knew the smile on my face was as sad as wilted lettuce.

"No. We can't both work a late shift at the same place, it's not right. And besides," her face lit up, "I can do that Open University degree that I've always wanted to do!"

"Oh really? In what?"

"Archaeology. I can study in my own time and go into the University for practicals and exams." Her grin got wider. "One chapter closes and another one opens!"

"Get you, Indiana Bhaskar! Your kid is going to have the coolest response in the class when people ask "what do your parents do?" A chef and an archaeologist is such a cool-sounding combo!" I hugged her again.

"Thank you for not hating me." Her muffled voice, came from my shoulder.

"Lady, you've got the right to choose whatever the hell you want to do with your life. If you want to be a full-time Mom, or Lara Croft, or come back here, it's none of my business or anyone else's." This time my smile was genuine.

"Hey, tiger-tamer." Akash had decided that we were far more interesting than bickering with Vik. "How'd you feel about being an aunt?" He winced as Priya stamped on his foot.

"What?" I was as confused as a chocolate and taramasalata sandwich.

"What he _means_ to say," Priya said with a glare at her husband, "is that you're basically honorary family now. To us both and the baby."

She said that, but as I turned around to talk to my boss I heard Akash say something which sounded suspiciously like: "Whatever, I ship it." Anik had no clue why my face suddenly blushed purest raspberry. Small mercies.

As October drew to a close I suddenly became aware of bright colours increasing around Leicester, of decorations and posters popping up everywhere. Faux-Indian lettering proclaimed that Diwali was coming and I got me to Google to find out what that entailed, exactly. If Kadam was expecting little Miss Kelsey to be caught unawares, he would find me prepared!

I wasn't prepared at how moving I'd find even just the wikipedia entry. The very core concept seemed to appeal to something very sincere deep inside me that I thought I'd lost a long time ago. Somewhere I was determined to make Diwali at The White Tiger a success.

I should have had a camera when I asked Kadam about what he was planning to do in the restaurant for Diwali. The look of blank shock on his face was worth a thousand loaded baked potatoes.

"What?" I asked innocently. "Surprised the little white girl knows something after all?"

"Surprised that the little white girl, whose main reference point for Indian culture was clearly _Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom _a couple of months ago, knows something," he replied with a sly grin – quick as a flash.

"And the horrible thing is, I can't even deny that." I shook my head.

"Ah well, nobody's perfect." He shrugged.

"Except for you?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, _especially_ not me." His voice came out as a soft growl. Damn. The man knew what went straight to my bones – even if he didn't know he knew.

He explained that we would be fully-booked the night of the main celebrations on the third day, but there would be prayers to Lakshmi before service for those who wanted to ask the goddess for a prosperous year. But that we would be suited and booted and The White Tiger would be decorated like a wedding cake for the entire period was a given, and I would be on flower bunting detail – whether I liked it or not.

In the days before the third night of Diwali (Lakshmi Puja) the restaurant was scrubbed to within an inch of its life, and little votive candles sent around the place wherever humanly possible. In spite of Kadam's promise to have me threading flowers from here till doomsday, on the first day of Diwali ropes of jasmine garlands arrived before service from a local florist.

"What are you smiling about?" Anik asked me suspiciously, as he caught me grinning stupidly on top of a ladder as I fixed the bunting to hooks in the ceiling.

"It's stupid," I said as I descended to join him.

"Stupid I can take, secretive not so much. I might have to invent my own reasons why you're smiling." It was tempting to see where that game might take us. But I resisted.

"My middle name is Jasmine. I keep smelling my own middle name everywhere, it's kinda stupid – but I find it funny." I explained. Kadam paused a moment.

"Ask me what jasmine flowers symbolise on Lakshmi Puja." He walked away with a mysterious smile. Stupid enigmatic silver tiger. _And _I was suddenly really hungry as the way that he'd said "Lakshmi Puja" made it sound like the most divine dessert ever.

On the night of Lakshmi Puja Leicester was damn near unrecognisable. Comapared to a lot of towns, especially in the Midlands, it's already a colourful place but that night the main streets were dazzling – all lanterns and lights shining in fabulous technicolour, with the somewhat sizeable South Asian population of the city out in full force. It was all banners and music, with faces all colours of the rainbow milling round (except blue, no Nightcrawler – sadly). How had I no noticed this the last two years I'd been living there? Had I been so absorbed in my own limited, little life that I had neglected an entire holiday?!

When I arrived at the restaurant, Kadam was still tinkering with the alter by the front desk. I dived into the office to rid myself of my coat and bag, and to wonder when would it be a good time to give him my gift. Would there be an official time, or..? All the websites I'd seen had all said that the third day was definitely for gifts great and small, but usually sweets or jewellery for close friends and family. Much as I had toyed with getting a cat collar for my silver tiger, I'd decided on a box of traditional Indian sweets (more like mini-desserts than the candy which the anglicism "sweets" had lead me to expect) from this little store down on Welford Road. I kept the pink box in my bag for later. I just hoped I'd picked ones that he'd like.

The time came for the pre-service blessing and all the lights went out. The only illumination was the candles that set the altar ablaze with light, throwing the little picture of the beautiful golden-skinned goddess Lakshmi. The priest from the local Hindu temple blessed the shrine and the objects upon it. It amused me a little to see that Kadam had put his ledgers there; although I supposed it made sense, - to bless the books for prosperity in the year ahead. I stared at the image of the goddess, letting the priest's Hindi lull me into a state of something which was both drowsiness and focus at the same time. In the last few weeks alone I had gained a job, friends and perhaps something more... I didn't realise that I was smiling until Kadam caught my eye, and flashed a brilliant, tiger-like grin my way. Yep. I'd consider myself prosperous.

The blessing ended and service began. I was still a little confused, as there had been no obvious time to exchange gifts or anything – but I supposed that would come later. There were more families than usual, and the atmosphere – which was never exactly sober – seemed as light and bright as egg whites whipped to a peak. It was noisy and happy, and – well – family-like. I couldn't stop smiling all night. I looked around from the bar and I felt like I understood. No matter which origins story you went with, Diwali was the triumph of good over evil, the light over the darkness; you could come together as a family and celebrate the small victories of the year, before praying for an even better year to come. I suddenly felt very alone among all the happy, smiling families. Like the orphan miles away from family that I was. My vision became a little blurry...

"Oi! Oi! Oi!" Anik appeared suddenly by my side. "I order you as your boss to smile and be happy. You're a pretty girl in a pretty dress, sorrow can wait for you!"

I hastily dabbed away the tears and pasted a smile on my face.

"I bet you're the kind who'd yell "fire, don't burn!"" I muttered.

"Depends on the fire," he muttered as he walked away – apparently satisfied that I wasn't about to have a public breakdown. He thought my new, dark blue dress was pretty. That made me a lot happier than it should have. I shook my head and carried on with service.

My mood had picked up substantially by the time the last customer had paid up and said goodbye.

"Alan, think fast!" Kadam said as he threw his keys at the poor guy, who fumbled and only narrowly avoided dropping them. "I'm going to be taking Miss Kelsey here to see the candles on the canal. Clean up and lock up, and leave the keys in the palm out front – will you?"

"You're going to take me to see who and the what now?" I asked startled.

"We strange Hindu-types like to float lights on the water during Diwali, it's no Ganges but even the Grand Union Canal looks impressive. Would you like to see it?"

Of course I did. Very soon, we were standing by the canal with a moderate crowd of people. Kadam had a plastic bag and I had my purse, still looking for a window to give him my gift. The water glittered as if with burning jewels as the little floating candles went downstream. Whilst I was mesmerized, Kadam removed his own tealight from the bag and borrowed a light from a kindly fellow candle-floater. He tapped me on the shoulder.

"Take it," he whispered eagerly.

Carefully, I took it in my hands and knelt by the water. I let it go and watched it literally go with the flow. It looked like a stream of molten light, passing through the darkness from this world into another. Although, I did pity whoever had to clean up all this later.

Without a word of consultation, we sat at the waterside – watching the candles go. I shivered in the October night, huddling into my coat. Eventually, Kadam cleared his throat:

"Kelsey, I have a proposition for you. Please hear me out before you say anything." He seemed nervous.

"Go on." I hoped neither my curious tone, nor my face, betrayed the dirty, dirty thoughts that I was having.

"With Priya gone, I'm going to need a new front-of-house manager. Now, for the present I want to get an old friend out of retirement and get him to cover for a few months; I would also like to take you on on a full-time basis – you're here almost every night anyway, your contract may as well reflect that. You can take time off for exams and things. But, what I really hope for, my Young American, is for you to take over the position after you graduate."

Now there was a curve ball. I spent a good amount of time doing a decent impression of a goldfish.

"Me?! Are you sure? I have no experience."

"Your degree is Accounting and Business Studies, I'm sure you'll be fine. Besides, I intend to spend the next few months "showing you the ropes," as you would say," he said with a dismissive wave.

"What if Priya wants her job back?" I didn't want to steal my friend's job from her. Even if she wasn't planning on coming back – she might.

"We both know she isn't." Kadam's face was a study in neutrality.

"What if I'm no good?" I asked in half-whisper. "What if book-learning counts for nothing and I'm way out of my depth."

Anik smiled at me with solar warmth and what looked like affection.

"There's only one way to find out, Kelsey. And it is far better to fall or fly than to always look up at the sky and wonder what it's like."

The bastard was right. I half expected him to tell me I had nothing to fear but fear itself.

"All right." I told him. "What kind of idiot turns down a job immediately out of college?"

He smiled brilliantly and clapped me round the back.

"Welcome to the inner-circle of the madness, my Young American!"

"I'm never going to be able to escape you now, am I?"

"Not a chance." (I liked the sound of that. A lot).

I delved into my bag and withdrew the little pink box.

"You can take this as a thank you, or bribery, but here," I thrust the box at him. "Happy Diwali." I looked away. I didn't want him to pretend he liked it just because I was staring.

I heard the box open. I risked a peek at him out of the corner of my eye; he looked both amused and pleased. The amusement was amped up to eleven as soon as he saw the look on my face.

"Thank you, Kelsey. I didn't think you knew!"

"It's nothing special..." I muttered.

"That's because you haven't tasted them yet. Open wide."

"Not a cha-"

Before I could finish, a sweet, sticky, crispy and crumbly _something _was popped into my mouth – Kadam's fingers brushed over my lips. He was right. Indian sweets were something special.

"Good?" He asked, as I finished swallowing.

"Real good," I confirmed. "I'm beginning to notice that good things happen when I let you put things in my mouth."

We just stared at each other a moment. I felt the blush and the horror creep up my face. _Really, Kelsey? Really?! Smooth!_

He looked into the water, apparently ignoring my own accidental innuendo, and absent-mindedly licking the syrup from his fingers. I could have sworn that I saw the ghost of a blush on his cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"So, you'll stay?" He asked softly.

"Of course, - unless I get a far better offer." I joked. I was about to elaborate on what that better offer might be (chocolate taster, Benedict Cumberbatch's cheekbone polisher) when something stopped me in my tracks. All of a sudden Jess' face was floating in front of me, words echoing from out of the edges of my thoughts: _She just kinda frowned and said that she had a better offer._

"Kelsey? Kelsey? What is it?" Kadam shook my shoulder gently, his face a mask of concern. Apparently my "deduction face" is kinda weird.

"It wasn't a coincidence," I said finally.

"What?" He was perplexed.

"Rani and Gurav. Walking out on the same night, at the same time, when there was going to be a lot of people there waiting for us to screw up. It wasn't a coincidence. They were paid. Or given better jobs. Or both. There's no "curse." Someone's trying to bring you down, Kadam. Like they've brought down every other owner of The White Tiger in the last decade."

We stared at each other. His face set into grim fury. Whoever was messing with us, they were going down.

* * *

The plot appears! Sorry for the 2 and a half week break, I had to sort out my life and go back to University (in Leicester!) so this incredibly transition-y chapter kinda went on the back-burner... All mistakes, cultural, grammatical or otherwise are mine, as is this whole crazy story - but Houck owns our lovebirds. Thanks for the encouragement, and methinks that Kadam POV chapter is an intriguing idea...


	8. Ch 8: How Many Stars? (Kadam's POV)

Chapter 8: How Many Stars? (A.K.A. Kadam finally gets a POV chapter)

Perched delicately at the water's edge, Kelsey looked fiercely into my eyes – as though her realisation had set something ablaze within her, and she was determined to set me on fire too. She continued her stream of thought:

"Rani quits and is paying the babysitter a bonus all of a sudden, - which a low-income single mom would never do if she'd just received a lump sum, she'd save it, or buy something nice, or something they'd been needing for a while. No, she has to have been given a better job – a better offer like she told Jess; and I'd bet you a steakhouse that one of the conditions of getting that job was to leave when and how she did. Gaurav was checking his phone the last time I saw him, what are the odds that he's just received the order to move? Gaurav's a student like me, if someone's offering extra cash – he'll take it and go."

"Would you?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Would I do what?" She shot back, puzzled.

"Leave. If someone offered you enough money. "She was a student too, after all, with a student's needs and debts. Why should she want to tie herself to an old man? I mean, restaurant. Old restaurant.

She looked at me as though I had punched her. And as though she was going to punch me.

"No." She said finally. "But I might if you _ever _insinuate that again. I might be a student but..." She looked away and clenched her fist. "You guys are my family. That means far more to me than a few coins." She looked up at me, again. She truly looked like a goddess when she was angry. It was... Frightening and fascinating. "And you should know that, Anik. You of all people."

Indeed I should. Me of all people. Anik Kadam: Too romantic and "free" to settle down, Bollywood's oldest (non-closeted) bachelor – the silver fox of the silver screen. I shook my head. I much preferred being a silver tiger. And here I was, burning my bridges with the lady who had called me so.

"I know." Unthinking, I put an arm around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I just don't want -" I bit my tongue. And sighed. What did I have to lose, aside from a chance at true love? "I don't want you to leave." I admitted. It was true; I didn't want to lose this beautiful, funny and vivacious young woman in front of me. Even if she never chose me, I would not mind – just as long as I could see her.

"Oh." She said with her head resting against my shoulder. _Oh? _My heartfelt small confession merely merited an "oh?!" I risked changing my position slightly, so that I could see her face. She seemed pensive, and (unless my eyes deceived me) had a small, secretive smile tugging at her peony lips. My heart leapt. I knew that look. I had seen it on the silver screen a thousand times or more, - the hero walking away after an accidental meeting with his love and the heroine left alone with her lovestruck thoughts. A small indulgent smile that looked upon a flickering candle flame of a feeling as it grew. In spite of not having the courage to hope, I did.

"So, where do we go from here?" My Young American asked me.

"Hm?" I knew precisely where _I_ would go, but I was not going anywhere _near _those thoughts until I was sure she wanted the same. It had been hard enough to avoid licking the sugar off her lips earlier, I had to settle for my own fingers instead.

"About this guy who wants to take us down. What are we gonna do? He's been at it for ten years, he's not just going to stop." She clarified. Ah. _That. _

"I suppose we have to wait for him to make another move, my Young American. Then, hopefully we'll know who we are dealing with."

"Yeah, I guess."

Eventually the floating candles disappeared, and it became unfair of me to keep Kelsey from her warm bed on a crisp autumn night. No matter how much I wanted her to keep sheltering under my arm. I escorted her to the clock tower, where she she bade me good night and effectively ordered me to go and retrieve my keys from the palm. There are _many _things that I would do, if she were to order me with that carefree smile. I realised that I had forgotten to give her the small box in my pocket; ah well, there's always tomorrow. I walked back to the restaurant, barely feeling the pavement beneath my feet. I sobered when I reached the door. Tomorrow, Phet would be arriving – and I had to review what I knew about our mysterious malefactor before he did.

Sleep has never come easily to me. Never. I can function on less than three hours if I have to. My mind has to wear itself out, even after running at a thousand miles an hour along twisting roads all day and night, before I can sleep. My thoughts kept turning back to Kelsey. Sweet, strange, funny Kelsey and her learning curve. She absorbs every lesson, every piece of knowledge that comes her way – I'm amazed that she was so spectacularly ignorant as she was when I first met her. She seemed to know a lot an awful lot about certain things (like Powell and Pressburger films), but had these great holes – like the entire history of a country which is closely linked to the one in which she had been living since she was a child. I shook my head. I had to stop thinking about her. Good things did not lie down that path.

I distracted myself by reviewing The Situation. Ten years ago my friend Rajaram died, leaving his restaurant to his two idiot sons. Within two years the family had imploded over some nonsense with the daughter of a family friend, (Yesubai?) they both fancied themselves in love with her and the poor girl was caught in the middle. By the time I returned from a shoot in Dubai, they had sold the restaurant and gone their separate ways; their mother had been less than impressed. I never really knew the couple that bought it next; but I heard that they were devoted to each other. Two years later they had divorced. The stress of running a restaurant can do things to a marriage but... It was a little convenient that it was _precisely _two years later. Nobody in the community knew anything about the young gun that came next, - except that they were amazed that he had lasted the whole two years. The next one had been some crazy Italian with an Indian wife, no-one had believed him when he said that the mummified rats hadn't been there before – but maybe he was right. Maybe he had been set up. It had been _exactly two years _since the tapas venture had failed. Surely it could be no coincidence that my staff had decided to play at being Spartacus on the anniversary night?

The whole thing was a headache. Maybe Kelsey would have some thoughts tomorrow. Maybe we could figure it out and in the excitement of celebration -

I mentally slapped myself. _You are her boss. You will reign it in and keep it professional. You will only steal a kiss the minute you are sure that she views you as more than a boss, or some cool uncle, or that all the flirting she does with you isn't unconsciously done. In short, Anik Kadam, you shall get __**a grip**__. _On that note, I went to take a shower.

I awaited service with some impatience. I couldn't wait to see Kelsey's reaction to Phet – he had had what one might like to call an _effect _on people...

Kelsey did not disappoint. Her face was a picture of what one might politely call disbelief as I introduced her to a small, wiry and bird-like Indian Keith Richards, complete with white, messy hair that gave the general impression that he had spent his life in a cave in a jungle somewhere between Mumbai and Bhopal, - for purely spiritual reasons, of course. I retreated to watch the show from behind the bar.

"I am satisfied to be meeting you, bee-you-tiful Kahl-see!" He said with his best impression of a man that did not speak eight languages (including English) fluently. I tried not to roll my eyes too much.

"Pleased to meet you, Phet," she shook his hand.

"This lowly man is to be the master in the art of restaurant management to your go-ur-ge-o-us self for the months yet to come," he grinned with a mischievous glitter in his eyes. Seriously? Was this 85 year-old idiot using his doddery old foreigner act to _flirt?_

Kelsey cocked her head to the side, her own treacle eyes sparkling with amusement. Oh thank God, - she wasn't falling for it.

"No man is my master, Phet – unless I wish for it." Was it my imagination, or did her eyes flick over to me? "You can cut the act now," she said firmly.

Phet straightened a little and resumed his normal voice:

"But I was having so much fun! How did you know? Everyone else just assumes I'm a stupid old Indian man."

"One: If Anik hired you, I could safely assume a basic level of competence – and English, particularly if you have experience in the service industry. Two: You _really _overdid it, man. "I am satisfied to be meeting you" - seriously? Way too complicated for someone who's acting like a beginner English speaker." She raised an eyebrow and a wry smile. It was definitely patronly pride that I was feeling at that moment. Not personal pride – and I certainly didn't mentally praise _my _Kelsey...

"Ah well. I got cocky." Phet shrugged. "Play the fool and they will underestimate you, then you will have them precisely where you want them."

"I'm a white, female American under the age of thirty living in England, I'm underestimated enough as it is!" She laughed.

I ducked under the bar, as though I were searching for something. I just couldn't risk meeting her eyes. All of a sudden I was acutely aware of just how much _I _had underestimated her at first, - perhaps for those very reasons. Perhaps Kelsey wasn't the only one who had needed to learn a thing or two.

Service began and I left Kelsey under Phet's capable (if eccentric) instruction. The night was a typical Saturday - that is to say, busy, loud and surreal. There were the usual suspects: Englishmen in quest of the bland in a curry house, students pooling their cash to celebrate something or other and my personal favourite, the semi-drunk group. Our rule has always been: If they can speak coherently and walk in a straight line, then let them in – but keep the water on the table topped up. That night, it was not a group that filled this slot – but a single man, old enough to know better, but still too young to see that. He was quite well-dressed, he screamed "separated from the group to sober up," rather than "had a bad day." I sent "Mo" over to him.

I didn't see what started the commotion. One moment the semi-drunk man was happily negotiating his way around the menu, as Mohandas stood patiently by, - the next the poor boy was flinching and afraid as he stood his ground against the middle-aged man that was suddenly leaning across the table. I noted the change in my young employee's body language with alarm, and listened in:

"There's no way you're "local," _mate_. Look at you, you're just another fucking Paki." However loudly and obnoxiously those words were said, the menacing chill they sent down my back was quiet and horrifying. "C'mon then, tell us when you really arrived off the boat. Bet you're an illegal." The drunk's slack smile sent fury down me.

"Sir, w-with a-all due respect – I'm probably more local than you are. I-I was born just down the road." His voice wavered, but he stood firm. I was proud, but I had lived in this country long enough to start rushing over. This could get very ugly.

Things moved very quickly after that, the drunk patron – all blotchy red and pink skin and smart clothes in increasing disarray – stood up suddenly. Mohandas took a step back. Before I could get there, there was a flurry of burnt sugar hair and pale skin and Kelsey was stood between them with her eyes burning coals of contempt.

"Sir," she said flatly. "We do not tolerate racial slurs against our staff. Please leave before we feel we need to call the police."

The entire restaurant was watching now, with bated breath. The ball was in his court now. I was stood helplessly by. The wretch appraised her slowly, looking her up and down like a car, or a piece of meat. He smiled. I have never wanted to hit someone more in my entire life.

"I'll leave if you come with me, babe. Whaddaya say we dump the Jihadi Johns and hit the town?"

My arms were pinned back in Alan's vice-like grip. Apparently I'd tried to make a lunge for him then and there.

"He's not worth it, mate. Leave it." Alan murmured urgently into my ears. From where I was standing, it seemed pretty damned worth it to me. Kelsey opened her mouth to speak. I immediately stopped struggling. Both Alan and I needed our arms free to help at any moment.

"Not a snowball's chance in hell, _babe._" She spat venomously. "Call me modern, but I find racism and general douchebaggery deeply unattractive traits."

The man's face darkened and he made as if to step forward. In an instant she found herself standing shoulder to shoulder with myself, Alan, Mohandas and Phet. His step forward became a step backwards.

"So which one is it?" He was still retreating towards the door. "The paki, the chink, the old one, or the really old one? Which one's fucked you into forgetting where you belong?"

Kelsey's lips turned into a delicate sneer, and I instinctively knew that I should let her do the talking.

"No "fucking" is required for me to know that I belong here, and you belong out there with your sorry ass kissing tarmac."

As if we had planned it, we all stepped forward. The vulgar wretch made his way to the door with his hands stretched out in a gesture of surrender; before he made his exit he narrowed his eyes and looked at Kelsey:

"Be seeing you, babe." And then he was gone.

The restaurant broke out into applause, whooping and cheering. I looked around. White, black, Asians of all persuasions were united in showing that they were better. Leicester has always been an accepting place, but there will always be one ass-hole willing to be the exception to the rule. Kelsey smiled and took a mock bow. She grasped Mohandas' shoulder and muttered praise for his bravery. Her hands were giving an earthquake a run for its money.

"Take over," I muttered to Phet as I lead an increasingly shaky Kelsey to my office.

I sat her down in my chair and went to the bar. It was supposed to be brandy for shock, wasn't it? I poured out half a tumbler and made a note to pay for it later. I pressed the glass into her hands and pulled up a chair next to her.

"Drink," I ordered her.

She took a gulp and shivered. She placed her empty glass on the desk.

"Fuck..." She looked at her hands, still shaking violently. I grasped them. She looked up at me, the beginnings of tears shining out of those dark eyes. She really had been scared. And it was only just hitting her. "I.. That... I..." You could see the thoughts jumbling behind her large, brilliant eyes.

"You were very brave, Kelsey."

"No, I wasn't. I was being decent." She looked away.

"I've been living in this country a long time now, my Young American, and not one in one thousand would have defended that boy as you did. And even fewer would have continued after he started to attack them personally."

"Really?"

"Sad, but true." I shrugged comically. She chuckled. It was worth it. "You were brave, but spare an old man a heart attack and let me deal with it next time!" She laughed. It was worth drawing attention to my age, just to hear her laugh.

I got up and went to my coat pocket and retrieved the small blue-leather box that had been there since the night before. I sat by her side again and placed it in her small pale hands.

"It's from all three of us." I explained. "Priya, Akash and myself. I meant to give it to you yesterday. It's just to show you that we consider you part of our little family, no matter what."

She opened up the box to reveal a genuine silver bracelet inlaid with chips of smoky quartz and onyx, with one small, silver, hanging jasmine flower; if you looked into the flower itself, there was a single, sparkling piece of grass green peridot.

Kelsey covered her mouth. She eventually revealed a little smile:

"Are you sure? This is so beautiful!"

"No more than you," I hurried forward quickly – hoping she wouldn't notice. "But if you don't want it -"

"No! Of course I do. Thank you. To all of you." Judging by the depth of her blush, she had caught my (entirely truthful) remark on her beauty. It was most likely a good time not to mention that the bracelet wasn't from all three of us, so much as all me of us...

She was struggling a little with doing the clasp one-handed. I helped her out.

"I feel kinda bad for just giving you dessert now." She joked.

"Don't be. I happen to have a sweet tooth."

Our eyes anchored onto each other. I was suddenly very aware of my hand still resting on her slim wrist. I thought I could smell her shampoo from where I was, perhaps if I leaned in a little closer...

There was a knock at the door. I pulled away reluctantly.

"Come in," I called out.

"The police are here," Phet said. "A customer called them. Do you want to see them?" His eyes never left my hand upon Kelsey's.

I sighed. If we needed their help later, we needed to get them involved now.

"Send them in." I went to greet them.

After being interviewed, separately, we were all eventually allowed to leave. As detained customers left, some of them stopped to speak to Kelsey – to tell her how brave she was, how beautiful _and _brave she was. One old woman asked if she would be interested in getting to know her grandson, a wrong 'un in need of a good influence – apparently. And Kelsey, my beautiful, blushing, brave and clever Kelsey, received them all with grace – with smiles and quips and reassurances. In a different age she would have made a fine Queen.

I sent Kelsey to the office to get her things. It went without saying that I was driving her home. Who knows who might be there, waiting in the dark? I knew that That Man's parting shot was still causing her considerable distress. And amidst all of the chaos I couldn't help but think how convenient it was that a single, obnoxious drunk racist misogynist had turned up and tried to intimidate and insult _all _of my waiting staff at once...

"Anik." I heard Phet's voice beside me. He spoke to me in Hindi. "That was certainly a night to remember. The customers loved it, maybe we should make it a weekly staple? The White Tiger's Weekly Dinner-Theatre!"

"If that never happens again in my life, it won't be soon enough!"

"For you, or young Kelsey it seems." He looked at me shrewdly.

"What? We're.. Close. Like family."

"Your wife is still your family," he countered.

"We're not -" I attempted to protest.

"You're not doing anything _yet. _I've known you since you were a headstrong little boy with his head in the stars; you think because you're a headstrong man with his head in the stars that you can try and bullshit me?" He finished with a wry smile.

"She's so much younger than me..."

"The Beatles said "she loves you" and I agree."

"But how -"

"She's coming over."

I closed my mouth pretty quickly. As we were leaving, Phet called over:

"Good night, my star-struck children. Don't fuck it up!"

I shook my head as Kelsey cocked her head to the side in puzzlement. I had an octogenarian rocker's murder to arrange later.

We drove back in silence. I dropped her off and bid her good night. I stayed buckled into my seat. If I had so much as touched that button, I would have been outside and pressing her against the car as I kissed her with all the passion I could muster. But she was my employee. My undergraduate employee who had just been through emotional trauma. I could not take advantage of her like that. The office had been a close call. I watched her walk away.

My phone rang before service on Monday. According the screen it was "The Young American" on the line. I pressed the little green telephone:

"Hello?" I couldn't hear anything but rattling, uneven breaths. "Kelsey? Are you okay?"

"How does he know where I live?" I heard her voice shake.

"What? How does who know where you live?" Worry is a paltry and anaemic description for the pure panic which I was gripped by.

"The guy. The creepy racist motherfucker from Friday night. He's standing opposite my apartment." She whispered in a small, shaking and terrified voice.

* * *

Tune in next week folks! First off, thank you all you lovely people who have reviewed/continue to review and favourite this story. You're lovely people deserving of all the Indian sweets you can lay your hands on. Elizabeth Smith asked a couple of chapters ago me if the Bachchan film _Cheeni Kum _was what inspired this fic. The answer is no, but the ever wonderful Estora has created a most excellent and bodacious film trailer for this fic (!) using footage from tit - which can be found at www. youtube watch?v=3I7v6smo5AA (get rid of the gaps).

Bit by bit, the mystery appears - but will Kadam be able to restrain himself until their enemy steps out from the shadows?


	9. Ch 9: Love's Never Easy

Okay, I promised certain people that certain things were going to happen at the end of this chapter. However, I had to break off early from this chapter - otherwise it would have been extremely bloated; so whilst this chapter is a lot of set-up, I will make good on it in chapter 10.

* * *

Chapter 9: Love's Never Easy

"Stay there," Anik's voice urged me on the other end of the line. "I'm coming to get you. Call the police."

"Okay," I agreed shakily. Oh God, why couldn't my voice stop shaking? And my voice had nothing on my hands.

"Kelsey?"

"Yes?"

"I know telling you not to worry is worse than useless, but I'll be there soon. It's going to be okay." With anyone else I would have screamed down the phone, demanding their justification for making such frivolous promises; but with him and his warm, comforting voice, I trusted him. Absolutely.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Don't mention it. I'm going to hang up and drive over now, remember: Don't leave the house."

"As if! Give me some credit, please."

"I worry." I could see the little smiling frown that probably accompanied that statement. "Goodbye Kelsey."

"Bye Anik." He hung up.

I called the police and roughly outlined the situation, (which was strangely therapeutic and panicking at the same time). Then I was stuck on my own. In the living room of my little apartment. Trying to look out of the window and not be seen at the same time. Yep. It was him alright. Mr Rapey Creepy Racist Asshole. Down to the dark neck stubble. He was just standing there, staring intensely at the door to my building. What the hell was he planning to do if I hadn't noticed him? That question just set the tremors off all over again.

I tried to start thinking rationally. Kadam would probably arrive and kick his ass... No, he'd probably run as soon as Anik or the police got here. I snapped a couple of pictures with my phone, one zoomed right in on his face. I wanted proof that I wasn't insane, as much for myself as anyone else. I sat on the floor under the window and waited for whoever it was who would arrive first - the police, or Anik?

The minutes seemed to take forever to tick by. I couldn't force myself to watch TV, or read, or play a game on my phone, or check Facebook; all of those things required a degree of calm that I simply couldn't master. I fiddled with the beautiful bracelet which Anik had given me like it was a rosary. Eventually, my phone rang. I scrambled to answer it.

"Kelsey, it's me. Let me in."Anik didn't even give me a chance to say hello. I ran downstairs and flung open the door. He came in with a worried frown and slammed the door behind him. "Upstairs?" He asked.

"First door straight in front of you, it's open."

He took the stairs two at a time. I found him peering out of my window, onto the street below. I clenched my fists. I needed him to acknowledge me. To say something, _anything_, to me.

"He's gone," he said eventually. I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding. "I thought I saw him go when I pulled up, he hasn't come back. Yet."

I pressed the back of my shaking hand against my mouth. Relief and that poisonous word "yet" battled for dominance in my mind. The result was me having to use the sofa as to prop up my weight. My knees couldn't decide whether they were okay with continuing to defy gravity or not. The cold, sickening swoop that had gone through my stomach when I saw RCRA again pulsed through my entire body. I felt so helpless and weaker than ever before, and I hated it.

"Kelsey?"

He had taken a few steps forward. I just reached toward him:

"I... I... A-"

An pained expression fixed itself on his face. He closed the distance between us in a few strides. He wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against the navy woollen coat he was wearing. I circled his waist without a second thought and inhaled the sandalwood scent of him.

"Shh... Sh... Sh... Shh..." I felt a hand stroke my hair in a soothing motion. Tears I hadn't known I was shedding were soaking into his broad chest. I tried to control my breathing, but oxygen just didn't seem to take like it used to. "Should have punched the bastard before he had a chance to run..."I heard him mutter from above me, as he rested his chin on my head.

"Damn straight," I tried to chuckle, feeling a little calmer.

"I had to see if you were okay," his voice rumbled through my head.

"My hero," I quipped. But I tightened my grip on his back and nuzzled my cheek closer into his chest. He stopped stroking my hair and rested that hand on the back of my head.

"Always." He said quietly. Like a confession. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. I held him closer. I felt the warm, comforting pressure of his lips press down on my head again. I have never been more jealous of my hair!

I looked up at him. Suddenly it didn't matter that my eye make-up was probably a watery mess. That I had just received one of the top five shocks of my life. All I saw was his eyes staring softly down at me. And his lips... He brushed my hair away from my forehead with a delicate pass of his fingers. He kissed me there too. We looked at each other with hooded eyes. He started to bend down a little -

And the buzzer for my intercom went. Violently loud and insistent. We both looked around, startled. He let go of me and stepped away. I picked up the phone.

"Yes?"

"This is the police. You called us about a man lurking outside your home?"

"Yes. I'll buzz you in. First door in front of you as you go up the stairs."

Goddamned police. This was the second time I'd been cockblocked by them.

I let the two PC's in and introduced myself and Anik, as my friend and boss. I cold have been imagining it, but I swear he puffed up a little at being called "a friend" as well as a "boss." I didn't share almost-kisses with just anyone! Stupid man.

PC Annie Miller and her colleague PC Steve Jones listened patiently as I began from the top, starting with Friday night. I could tell that the "trauma and paranoia" explanation was about to trip on her kind lips, so I showed them both the pictures that I had taken on my phone. The expressions that passed over Anik's face were... Strange. They went from a small, proud smile, to a little concerned frown. Why couldn't he just be as impressed as the two police officers sat on my sofa? I sent the pictures to a number they gave me and they reassured me that they would look into it. She gave me a card and told me to call if he made an appearance again. Anik and I were left alone again.

I wanted to pick up where we left off, but he cleared his throat and stood up.

"I'll understand if you don't want to come into work today -"

"Woah there, hold your horses! I'm going in! I'm not going to sit here going crazy, wondering if he's going to break into my home next, or let him think he's won! I'm working today, and that's final!" I'm not sure at which point I had stood up, but I was standing toe to toe with him. His face broke into a brilliant smile:

"That's my girl. Want a lift there?"

"Thanks."

We spent the drive in silence. Was that it? He would "always" run to see if I was okay and tease me with almost-kisses, but we couldn't have the real thing? Was it my age? His age? A man used to following romantic cues for a living? I didn't know if I wanted to kiss him and kill him, or kiss him and screw his brains out. I just knew I wanted to scream.

We arrived at the restaurant. I apologized to Phet and Alan for making them cope with reduced numbers, they practically yelled me down and told me to stop being so stupid.

"Where's Mo?"I asked.

"It's his night off," Alan supplied.

"Mo's still only part-time, and he's been in way too much lately. I've got someone coming in tomorrow for a trial." Phet supplied.

"Oh really? Not a member of the National Front, are they?" I joked.

"As much as it would please me to watch you verbally castrate racists all day, alas no," he chuckled. "I interviewed her over the phone, yesterday. She seems like a nice girl, apparently she worked here ten years ago for the original owners. She's been in Manchester for a while and now she needs a side-job while she finds something else." He explained.

"Why'd she come back?" Alan asked.

"Not sure," Phet shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."

I internally rejoiced that the testosterone-oestrogen balance was about to get a little closer to equalising. I love the guys, I really do. But sometimes they were a little too inclined to assume any hunger, or fatigue-induced grumpiness meant it was "that time of the month." Except for Anik. He just sent me to the office to get a snack. Wise man. Except for the not kissing.

Service went without a hitch and Anik drove me home again, just in case. I bent down at the window to say good night and thanks.

"Kelsey. You were very clever, taking a picture of _that _man, but..." He looked away, seemingly struggling for the words. "Be careful. It was a risk. Please don't do anything to put yourself in danger like that again. He might have seen you, and broke down the door and -" he stopped himself, mid-flow. "Just. Be careful. I do genuinely consider you family, and I want you safe."

I nodded.

"Thanks. I will. Oh, and Anik?"

"Hm?"

"You're my family too." I took in the little slice of stunned pie that was his face and walked away.

My stalker turned up irregularly. Sometimes he would be outside my door, other times he wouldn't. There was one memorable occasion when he was outside the restaurant, waiting for me to walk home and Anik ran after him. Bastard got away, but he never tried to get me at the restaurant again. After that, Anik always drove me to an from work, no question. The weird thing was, he'd never show up when I had to go to class. Always when I had to go to work. But that didn't stop me from becoming a nervous wreck every time I had to leave the house. I became used to having to watch my back _all the time. _The new woman at work, Shaheena, kept trying to convince me to come on a night out with her to take my mind off it – but it just wasn't happening. I just went out less, period. It got to a point, before Christmas, when Jess actually dragged my sorry ass out of the house one night and took me to a very familiar-looking house... It turned out Jess had rang the restaurant to collude with Priya via her husband, and we were having a girly movie and makeover night – whether I wanted it or not. _10 Things I Hate About You, _for the win!

I needed that normality, and it did me wonders. But it didn't stop me from being frustrated as hell every time I rang the police to report a sighting, and they couldn't do anything because they hadn't identified him yet! And because he _hadn't actually done anything yet _they couldn't do anything more than log it! Because turning up to chase and arrest him would just be _soo_ much effort! Apparently I had to be a corpse to be put on top of the list of priorities.

Anik supported me a lot, with the rides and the times off shifts to call the police, and patience towards my increasing irritability. But there were no more cosy chats, no more almost-kisses. I began to wonder if every thing had been in my head, or if it was just a passing fancy for him which had just gone and passed. He was friendly, but distant. My only consolation was that he didn't seem to have a thing for Shaheena, so I could take her off the list of reasons why my boss was suddenly being way too professional. Shaheena was beautiful. She had these gazelle-like, tawny eyes, immaculate black silk hair and legs that went on forever. And she was shy and kind, so I couldn't hate her. Especially as she seemed so strangely fond of me. I guessed it was a little sister thing? Some sisters we were, the short, brunette, white girl, and the tall South Asian babe with "everything in the right place." And yet, in spite of all that, she still seemed really shy and self-doubting – which killed me. She even flinched at raised voices. Maybe in time she would tell me why.

It was just before I left to go home for Christmas and I hadn't seen my personal favourite stalker for nearly two weeks. I was a jittery mixture of relief and dread. My phone rang and I didn't recognise the number:

"Hello?" I said, expecting an automated message telling me about insurance.

"Kelsey Hayes?" A light, but cultivated male voice enquired.

"Speaking."

"Hello Miss Hayes, my name is Manidhar Lokesh. I am head of recruitment at Univale Hospitality." I vaguely remembered the name. It was on the back of some snacks and drinks, and I was pretty sure it owned a chain restaurant or two. Yeah, that was it. I had to read an article on them in first year. "It has been brought to our attention that you would be ideal for a graduate position in our management department."

_Now _I was sitting up.

"Recommended? By who?" I asked.

"We keep an eye on the development of promising young individuals in all major UK universities." He avoided the question.

"That so?" Because that wasn't creepy. Not creepy at all.

"Yes. It's a very promising and highly sought after position, Miss Hayes. It has a starting salary of £30,000 a year with opportunities for merit-based bonuses."

"What would it entail?" I asked shrewdly, half-knowing the answer I might receive.

"You would be co-ordinating with our Personnel department to help us improve our management styles and strategies at first, you would of course receive specialist training at our regional headquarters in Nottingham." Sounded boring. And corporate. "It would take place on evenings and weekends, so you would have to withdraw from any extracurricular commitments. Including jobs. We will, of course, compensate you for lost income." And there it was. The little rotten nugget at the heart of all the syrupy incentives. Quit and quit now, and you will be rewarded. I wondered if this was how Lokesh had phrased the offer to Gauarv and Rani, or was he more direct. There was very little doubt in my mind that Lokesh was responsible for our recent woes. Or in the chain of command for them, at least. I was struck with a brilliant idea.

"Hm... You see I have a full-time job at a restaurant, I really feel that I can't just throw them under the bus like that..." I added a wistful tone to my voice. "I really need some time to think about this. Listen, I'm about to go home for Christmas vacation but could we meet up in the New Year to discuss this further?"

"Of course," he sounded delighted. "You should have time to consider your options. But I should tell you that your potential would be maximised at Univale in a way which would simply not be possible at The White Tiger." I shiver went down my spine. I had never volunteered the name of _where _I worked. "You're based in Leicester, are you not?"

We arranged to meet at a café on the 14th January next year. Apparently the company didn't have offices in Leicester and they wouldn't want me to go all the way to Nottingham for a fifteen-minute meeting. I called Anik and explained what had just happened.

"... I'm going to go and see what I can find out. Anything, _anything _which might help us figure out why and how this is happening to us!" I finished triumphantly.

"Kelsey, please don't do this."

"What?" That had been the last thing which I had expected to hear.

"This could be dangerous. And if your theory is correct, they know where you live. If you dance into the fire, don't be surprised when your feet get burnt."

"It might not be."

"It's pretty strange that they got in touch two weeks after your mysteriously work-obsessed stalker disappeared, you said it yourself. They want you gone, and I don't know what they'll stop at. I just don't want you to draw more of a target on yourself." He sighed.

"Hey, I said I wouldn't leave you and I won't. Not even if they beat me bloody. But I'm not going to stick my head under the parapet and pray that they go away. They're stuck on The White Tiger like a cat is on a mouse. We have to do _something, _they'll never leave us alone Anik." I begged.

There was a long pause.

"Okay, do it. But I want to be in the car outside."

* * *

As always, Houck owns the characters, AR Rahman owns the titles and I own the rest - including the mistakes. Thanks to everyone who has been reading this and my other Keldam fics, you guys are kinda awesome. Speaking of which, if you go to my profile there is a poll which should greatly interest all of you with a stake in how our lovebirds turn out. We will go down with this ship! Next time: Lokesh! The return of Akash and Priya! Valentine's Day!


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